


Life's Hour

by Diviana



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing - All Media Types, Red Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Family Drama, M/M, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), character resurrection, sci fi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/Diviana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After completing an important mission on behalf of the Justice League of America, Jason Todd passes away. His abrupt death shakes the clandestine superhero community, inspiring serious reform. Despite being a notorious antihero in life, Jason like all people will never know what legacy he left behind.</p><p>Except, he's revived in a body almost exactly like his original. Jason discovers that not only had he died, but also ten years have passed since his death. Although the world never stops spinning, he discovers one's existence like the forces of nature erode it, leaving a visible mark for anyone who knows what to look for.</p><p>With a thousand questions on his mind, he searches for his old affiliate, Dick Grayson; however, his visit creates more questions than it answers. First, who brought Jason back from the grave? More importantly, who is the teenager living with Dick? And why in the world do they look like a miniature carbon-copy of Jason?</p><p>Life's hard enough to navigate normally, but when it comes to living in a world ten years older than you remember, it becomes a matter of how to adapt to the future and what should remain in the past.</p><p class="smallcap">Inspired by O Human Star</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Media Res

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this work by Blue Delliquanti’s wonderful webcomic O Human Star. This isn’t a straightforward adaption rather how I would write a story with the similar plot devices and themes. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing Life's Hour.
> 
> I would like to thank [Hatake_Kai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatake_Kai/pseuds/Hatake_Kai) for being a lovely beta helping me whip this fic into shape. Without them, this fic would be a much more daunting task than it already is.
> 
> As great as Ao3’s e-book download system is, I have created my own .epub, .mobi, and pdf files for download which better reflect the formatting and style I had in mind for Life’s Hour. [Link here.](https://mega.nz/#F!9RQ3gRIC!jndVB5iFUCHYOUhjI_rhQw)

# Chapter 1: In Medias Res

In this short Life that only lasts an hour  
How much - how little - is within our power  
-Emily Dickinson

01:46.0807

Glancing out the window, or was it known as a porthole on spaceships, of the Watchtower, Jason blinked. Peeling off the blood-encrusted, sweat-stiffened shirt off, Jason winced at the small jabs of pain. Unknown bruises and cuts in strange or surprising locations were an occupational hazard. For the most part, he couldn't feel mild aches. The soreness acted as a welcome distraction from an uncomfortable mixture of emotions welt up in the pit of his stomach. It tasted somewhere halfway between satisfaction and exhaustion soaked in an alcoholic marinade of anticipation, pride, and excitement. Digesting the sensation, he flopped onto the cot under the porthole.

He scanned the spare room he'd been living in part-time since he'd accidentally involved himself in one of the Justice League's wild Earth-alternating cases: how it seemed like the Earth hung on the edge of catastrophe every time the JLA was involved, he didn't understand. A portion of him saved the image of the narrow, sparsely decorated quarters to his memory, a memento of what most likely would be the only time he'd be allowed into JLA headquarters without bonds, barring galactic catastrophe or Bruce's death.

 _Think of the devil_ , Jason mentally commented, _one of these days he's going to appear out of the toilet and all I'll care about is that I can't take a piss._

The heavy, deliberate thump of Bruce's boots told Jason to look toward his left. The door slid open. Bruce entered followed by seven members of the Justice League: Wonder Woman, Shazam, Dick, Roy, Superman, and Kyle. Every wrinkle in their face tensed, except Bruce's. His face lacked expression other than the thin, judgmental narrowing of his eyes. Despite his graying hair and shrinking figure, he managed to maintain an indomitable aura. His arms crossed atop the outline of the Batman insignia of his uniform, more armored to compensate for his increased age which although logical seemed strange when it came to Bruce. Between the sun imploding tomorrow and Bruce dying, Jason would put his money on the former.

Stretching his sore muscles, Jason broke the silence, "Can we wait to throw my surprise acceptance party?"

"That was completely irresponsible," Bruce scolded, cutting to the chase.

Jason leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Irritation melded with the previous emotions in his belly. Inhaling deeply, he civilly stated, "I did what I had to do."

Deliberately and determinedly, Jason looked Bruce straight in the eyes. The steel-colored irises drilled into him, piercing through him. Jason set his mouth in a determine line and glared back in return. For most people, this action was straightforward defiance. In Bruce's world, the stare down was akin to two wolves circling another, hackles raised and posed to attack.

Wonder Woman stepped between them, hands hovering to suggest like a cautious animal tamer. Catching both of their gazes, she stood in slightly off-center, closer to Bruce than Jason. She commented emphasizing the sounds, "One battle is enough for today. Force is _not_ the only way to achieve your goal. Speak to each other, may Athena help guide this conversation to a peaceful end." 

Bruce blinked. He inhaled carefully. His eyes now darted across Jason, categorizing him. The intentional circling shifted to wary sidestepping. Jason blinked, silently retreating. His stomach contracting uneasily. A foul taste resided in the back of his throat, wariness and weariness in one flavor.

Superman stepped forward, mentally flanking Jason. A gentle smile lined his face. Superman said, "As much as I'd like to see the two of you work this out, we came here as a team." 

Bruce gestured, offering the floor to the man in blue and red. Bruce shifted to the left to retain a good perspective on Jason while placing Superman in his line of sight. His cool eyes never completely left Jason's face.

"Son," he began, in a low, deep voice, "considering the unique circumstances, we had thought about giving you a permanent position here."

 _Had thought_ , Jason focused on that nuance. He replied, "But?"

_Sentences like that always had a but._

Superman finished, "Your recent actions made us reconsider. We haven't made a decision yet."

 _Ex-crime lord that doesn't listen_ , Jason mocked, _I can see my chances clear as day._

"We all agree your recent actions were unwarranted," Wonder Woman finished off.

"All of you?" Jason parroted, glancing over the group.

Roy shrugged one shoulder in response. Shazam drew his flat palm across the air, miming a blade over his neck. His typical starry-eye gaze filled with regret. Dick ducked out of Jason's line of sight. Aquaman dissected Jason with his eyes. Kyle awkwardly looked above Jason's head.

Wonder Woman nodded.

"Can I at least get some rest before y'all kick me out?" Jason softly hissed.

Not bothering to wait, Jason let gravity take hold of him. His blankets made a huffing noise as the air was knocked out of the spaces. Closing his eyes, he counted the steps exiting his room: six. Seven people entered; six left. Pushing his body back into a sitting position, Jason opened his eyes.

01:09.0581

Dick leaned onto the wall, his hidden behind his back. The Nightwing costume lacked pockets - Jason knew from experience - but Dick gave off the air of someone with their hands tucked in their pockets as they unseeingly stare in front of them. Lightly, he growled, "You were supportive."

Jason responded to a blank stare, "Supportive when Bruce was laying it on me. And Wondy and Supes."

Dick's shoulders pulled up and dropped. His cheek concave as he chewed on it. Dick confessed, "That was pretty risky. A stupid risk."

"Like you wouldn't've done the same thing," Jason hissed, his voice laced with irritation and exhaustion.

"Jaybird," Dick sighed, stepping closer, "Whether you're wrong or not, if you talk to the League they'll probably let it slide."

The soft blue eyes that peered at him only evoked irritation. A voice in his head roared, _It's not like they hadn't done worse. It's not like the Wonder Boy hasn't !_

"Whatever you say," Jason growled, " ** _Agent 37._** "

"Jay."

He interrupted, "I'm not gonna to beg for something I deserve. Whatever the fuck they say, I didn't do anything wrong."

Annoyance bit into his flesh, spewing its toxic venom. Jason clenched his teeth as the poisonous ire spread through his veins. His skin felt flushed, like surface of the sun. His blood boiled, coloring his vision a hazy red.

"You almost died."

Jason spat, "Occupational hazard."

Scanning the lines forming at the corner of Dick's eyes, Jason shook his head. The flushed heat encouraging him. Jason scoffed, "I can't believe it - No, actually I do. When I do something out of protocol, I'm obviously wrong. When you, Mr. Perfect, does it. They look the other way. You can't do any fucking wrong, can you? Just leave and let me pack up my shit in peace."

"Is that how you actually feel?" Dick whispered, his voice shook with betrayal.

"Get out," Jason ordered, his chest tight. He diverted his gaze, blinking away the wetness lining his lids. A heaviness sat in his throat, making it difficult to breath. Suppressing the urge to gasp, Jason waited for Dick to leave. He might feel like crap, but he didn't want anyone else to know that. He lamented, _Can't believe I was looking forward to being accepted. I shouldn't be surprised, everyone always lets me down._

Dick edged closer, shifting to remain in Jason's line of sight. He huffed, "Hey, you don't actually believe that do you, Little Wing?"

Jason inhaled, his resisting the effort. The venomous ire bonded with his short-temper. His head spun with emotion. His throat closed up, adding a layer of nausea to his mental tail spun. Jason forced out, "Like you would understand, golden boy."

"Thought we could talk," Dick stated, his hand rubbed the back of his head, "Guess I was wrong."

Dick turned slowly. His eyes lingered on Jason, carefully observing him. His mouth was tightened in an uncharacteristic line. As if responding to Jason's inaction, he quickened his pace. A valley formed between his eyebrows and his lips dipped into a frown. Jason fell backwards as he listened to Dick march out his room. The steps loud and pained compared to his usual light shuffling. The beep of the door signaled that he was alone.

00:45.0648

 _Should've known he'd take Bruce's side_ , Jason thought, moving his forearms to block out the lights.

The suffocating sensation in his throat intensified. He closed his eyes. Ignoring the discomfort, he mentally buried the bitter seasoning of disappoint and betrayal in his stomach. His emotions formed a clot in his throat, suffocating him. Inhaling, his chest rattled like a wind chime in a tornado. He bit his lip, drawing blood, as he forcefully and unsteadily took a breathe.

The lack of air chilled his body. Jason shook, from the sensation of drowning in his feelings. His lungs ached and the sour taste of blood filled his mouth. Jason's eyes shot open. Shooting up, he cupped his mouth. Pulling his head away, he saw traces of crimson, too much for a split lip. He gasped.

His chest heaved. Brilliant red spewed from his mouth. His breaths came in short, premature huffs that were interrupted with mouthfuls of blood. Racked with coughs, his body convulsed violently. He closed his eyes, leaning forward to avoid drowning in his own blood. His body heat escaped with every wrenched out cough. Goosebumps crawled up his flesh as his body temperature plummeted. His head swam, filling with darkness. The floor came up at him and the world went black.

00:00.0000

⌛

00:00.0001

00:00.0429

00:10.0526

03:35.0352

19:09.0228

??:??.9999

Jason inhaled sharply. Nearly vaulting off the bed jerked upright. He roughly patted his body, searched for the sticky, hot, wetness of blood. That sensation haunted his last waking moment. The supple bounce of dry flesh revealed that he was undressed. A second later he realized a linen duvet covered him. The quality too fine to match the Watchtower-issue ones he'd dragged off the cot with him as he gasped for air.

His brain whirled. Taking deliberate and deep breathes, he scanned the area. He'd woken up in a large rectangle room. The shut blinds obscured his location and the time of day. Dimmed lights cast of a shallow glow over the area. Anywhere beyond his toes was half-hidden in shadows. The last item he could clearly make out were a set of clothes sitting at his feet. The plain dark grays reminiscent of the uniforms from the Watchtower.

Reaching out with his ears, Jason picked up the familiar buzz of electricity and the normally forgotten beat of his heart. While he analyzed his surroundings, Jason flexed his toes then legs. Repeating the function check with his other limbs, he seemed to be in one piece. His clear mind suggested there weren't drugs in his system. He was sober, unbound, and alone.

Jason considered, _Either my kidnappers suck or they want something from me._

Jason leaned over to pick up the set of clothes at the bed's edge. In the process, he noticed a set of black boots peeking out from under the side of the blankets. Straightening up, he ran his fingers over the fabric, checking for any hidden surprises. Unlike the blankets, the shirt's firm yet comfortable texture matched the JLA grade fabric perfectly. Twisting it around in his hands, he noticed that the JLA logo print over the chest. Without much of an option, he pulled the basic JLA uniform on.

Once fully clothed, he tucked his feet into the boots. He stood up. Skimming the room again, he lightly headed toward the window. Yanking at the frame, he noted that they were set into the window and sealed shut. So tightly shut were the blinds that he couldn't see outside. Jason mentally crossed out an escape route. He similarly checked the door, which was locked. The vents, out of reach, blew fresh, chilled air into the room. 

Walking the perimeter, Jason cataloged the space. He approximated thirteen by ten square feet. The majority of the area was taken up by the king sized bed Jason had previously been occupying and by a large dresser made of mahogany on the opposite wall. From the slight swell of the wood, the room was located somewhere humid or moist. The empty drawers were fitted into place, discouraging removal. Otherwise, the space was open, perhaps to limit any potential weapons from being formed.

Jason stopped. The hairs on the back of his stood up. His gut directed his eyes to the ceiling. A bright light went off, blinding him. Clawing at his neck, Jason felt a well-toned bicep constrict around his neck. The other pressed a damp cloth to his mouth and noise. His fingers loosened the sleeve, revealing a diagonal gash similar to a squashed, stretched out, slanted 'z'. Unable to pry himself free, Jason held his breathe for a few minutes before his lungs forced him to inhale. Then, the world faded.

When he came to, Jason felt gravel under his fingers. Opening his eyes, he realized he laid outside the Wayne Manor gates. Standing up, he quickly patted his body: no tracking chips, bruises, or broken bones. Jason took the hint and entered Bruce's access code into the Manor security system. For a man with so many secrets, Bruce was overly sentimental and unwilling to change his own code from the time of his parents' double homicide to something less morbid and securer. That was half the reason Jason found it so easy to hack into Batman's information grid, all of his passwords no matter how layered held sentimental significance. All Jason honestly needed was time and Google to figure out the proper variations and combinations.

Glancing, the sky's darkle tinted with a pinkish-orange implied the time was early-evening, too early for patrol. The lights in the window ensured that Alfred was at least home. Not that the elder butler left the Manor most evenings except to act as a chauffeur or in-field medic. Rapping on the stylized brass knocker, Jason waited.

"Hello," an oddly familiar voice greeted

At first, Jason believed Damian had opened the door except the kid in front of him barely reached Jason's nose. His hair was the wrong color, an orange accented ruby. The color contrasted with the kid's lapis blue eyes, _his eyes._ Blinking quickly, Jason matched the kid to a younger version of himself, no more than sixteen years old, but if he'd never gotten into the habit of dying his hair the signature Robin black.

"Al," Dick's voice, Jason recognized, called out, "who's at the door?"

Peering over the kid's, Al's, head, Jason saw Dick only several years older than he last remembered him. His messy mane was cropped close on the sides. Wrinkles edged his eyes and mouth, deepening as the face contorted.

"Alex Richard Jason Grayson," Dick growled, "this isn't funny."

Holding up his hands, Al retreated out the door. He stopped near Jason and eyed Dick nervously. Loudly, he announced, "Dad, I didn't do this."

His voice trembled in the way Jason remembered his did every time he worried Alfred would scold him which somehow was always infinitely worse than when Bruce lectured him. Jason stepped sideways to avoid the conflict. He blinked. His mind wondered if the teen in front of him was an occipital illusion or a hologram. Considering his lifestyle, he also mentally added in displaced alternative timeline version of him or a shape shifter who borrowed his form. 

Dick moved forward, closing the gap. He stood at the threshold observing Jason carefully. In an uncharacteristically flat tone, Dick questioned, "Who sent you? And why?"

Jason blinked. His brain blank from confusion.

"You know what, it doesn't matter," Dick muttered.

Curling his fingers toward his body, Dick gestured for Al to enter. Shooting Jason a callous glance, Dick commented, "Whoever created it can deal with it."

"It," Jason reflexively repeated, "What a nice way to greet someone. Where are your manners, Dickiebird?"

Dick spat venom, "Don't call me that. You're not him."

"Except I am," Jason corrected, "I'm Jason. One of the many orphans that Bruce collected."

Al whispered, uncertainly, "Dad, what if he is the real one?"

"He can't be. Jason's dead," Dick commented, the words flowed too quickly as if they had been repeated for the umpteenth time.

Jason shrugged, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue, "Occupational hazard. Punching reality, Lazarus Pit, I've died before. How long was I gone for this time? Isn't ten years too early to go senile, _golden boy_?"

Dick's eyes widened, darting across Jason's figure. He half-whispered, half-mumbled, "You can't be Jason."

"Maybe I can help," the freaky mini-me stated, squeezing between Dick and Jason.

He carefully questioned, "Who are you, JPT?"

Jason stepped forward and hissed, "Who told you that?"

Dick's eyebrows creased, showing his confusion. Dick asked, "What?"

Al explained, "It's one of Jason's, the real one's, security questions that he never planned on ever using it. Anyway what's the answer?"

"I'm just plain tired," Jason answered his lame inside joke, "Now how did you know that, brat? Actually what are you and why do you look like me?"

"He's real or he's like me," Al stated, turning to enter the Manor.

Dick moved from the doorway to allow him entrance. He directed Jason in with a flick of his eyes. Closing the door behind them, Dick observed Jason. His sky blue eyes pinned Jason down, dissecting him. Al similarly scanned Jason but with a more like a kid sizing up a new toy.

"Explanations would be nice," Jason pushed, crossing his arms.

Dick began, "It's a long story. You've been gone for about a decade now."

"That explains the wrinkles," Jason retorted, "not the strange mini me over there. Last I remembered I didn't have a brat."

Dick sighed, leaning his weight into the door. His eyes flitted from Al and Jason. He blinked. Dick said, "I went pretty crazy after you died. Trying to find who killed you and trying to bring you back. Found out that basically your soul was destroyed and you couldn't come back."

His gaze returned to Al. A soft, tired grin appeared. Jason cleared his throat, "And what? You cloned me?"

Dick's attention jumped back to him. The smile vanished, replaced with a firmly clenched jaw. The skin tight enough to bounce a coin off of. He run his fingers through his hair, a faint sight escaped his lips. His shoulders slumped in with his posture.

Dick questioned, "Do you remember how you rigged yourself to their stupid machine?"

"The brain wave replicator?"

Dick nodded and clarified, "The couple of years after you died. I sort of lost it -" Dick counted off - "I dumped your body in the Lazarus pit, tried necromancy, uploaded your brain into an android and a clone among other ideas."

Pausing, he looked at Al. His features lost their earlier tension. Dick ended, "Al was my last attempted, when they turned out completely different from you well..."

Dick's voice trailed off.

Al interjected, playfully, "I'm like you if you were a seven year old, magic-infused cyborg implanted with an apparently not so dead guy's memories."

Jason rubbed his temples, even for him this was convoluted. This was coming from the guy who was adopted by a bat-themed vigilante, who was trained by a secret assassin organization, and who was somehow on his third life. Reconciling the always forward-moving Dick and the one who accidentally created a new life-form was one aspect of his migraine.

His head throbbed as he considered, _Is stealing someone's brain waves identity snatching?_

Dick cut off Jason's train of thought, "Who brought you back?"

"I don't know," Jason responded, the brain ache intensifying.

"Join us for dinner," Dick suggested, "We'll figure everything else tomorrow."

Following behind Dick, a flyaway thought hit Jason and left his mouth, "Where's Alfred?"

"Jason, he died three years ago," Dick vocalized, dropping a few octaves, "his grave's next to yours."


	2. Circumlocution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to the lovely [Hatake_Kai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatake_Kai/pseuds/Hatake_Kai)

# Chapter 2: Circumlocution

02:39.9814

"What are you doing?" Jason asked, darting his attention between the Mavericks and the bound Teen Titans.

His mind continued to plot, analyze, and dissect strategies to finish the mission while minimizing collateral damage. The brats added a layer of unexpected variability. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jason deliberately controlled his facial muscles to hide his apprehension. He angled his body to face the gang of around forty rouges, keeping the Titans in his periphery. 

The Mavericks exchanged glances, each searched for the answer in someone else. The Titans' expressions varied greatly from confusion to shock to betrayal to anger. One red, yellow, and green uniform stood out from the rest. Damian shot Jason a scathing glare. He silently shouted, _I don't need your help._

Shifting to the person, Barnabas, holding the helmet-like apparatus, the B.R.A.T., Jason arched his brow questioningly. Barnabas stared in response. His lids narrowed into suspicious slits, scanning Jason's face. Barnabas's eyes relaxed. His mouth split to a too-wide smirk that tickled the hairs on Jason's neck. Turning his body, Barnabas faced Jason with straighten shoulders and inclined head.

Barnabas chuckled, "Test run."

Tapping a scantily-dressed hero, Abuse if Jason remembered correctly, with the tip of his boot, Barnabas cocked his eyebrow challengingly. He vocally followed up, "Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

"Hold your position," Grayson ordered through Jason's hidden ear piece, "Reinforcements ETA five." 

Pausing, Jason bit the inside of his cheek. Scanning the open space, his eyes darted between the coffee-machine sized device and the bound team of teen heroes. Calculating the times in his head, Jason stepped forward. Resting his chin on his left thumb, he cupped his upper lip with his index finger. Tilting his head to the right, he gave the Titans, the device, and Barnabas's six foot figure a thoughtful glance.

"While that's one way of doing things," Jason commented, dropping his hand.

He walked a tight circle around the restrained young heroes. The rubber soles of his boots squeaking on the concrete. Periodically flicking his eyes up to look at the B.R.A.T. helmet. When he stopped, he posed with shrugged shoulders. Staring at Barnabas, he clicked his tongue. Dropping his shoulders, he tilted his head to the left.

Jason elaborated, "There are other, more interesting tactics. But if you've already made up your mind, I guess I'll hold my tongue."

"Just spit it out Adler," Marco ordered from behind Barnabas, biting Jason's bait.

"We were planning on replacing them," Jason began, dragging out his words, "let's see if we have them take our place."

"You want to put on this, be my guest," Barnabas coughed, holding the untested machine up in the air.

Estimating that one minute had passed, Jason figured he could keep Barnabas talking for another half minute to minute. Whistling, Jason egged, "Willing? Are you saying you set this all up and expect us to do all the heavy-lifting while you just watch?"

Murmurs passed between the members of the Mavericks. The crowd shifted to observe Barnabas's face which twisted into one of annoyance. He parried, "This and that are two different situations. I'd rather not waste my time on small game."

"You and I might not give two shits about these snotty-nosed kids," Jason stalled, "but the Supers certainly do. It gives us a better way in. Switch a few of us with the brats."

Drawing quote marks in the air, Jason expanded, "Have a handful of brats 'escape' and run to warn the League, while the kids take over our places. The plan runs smoothly and we get an easier in."

"I repeat hold your position," Grayson growled, "Save the heroics. Hold your position. Backup is on their way." 

_Grayson, unless these crooks take three minutes to make up their mind, I am gonna step in,_ Jason answered to himself.

"Sounds, fun," Barnabas smirked, "you first."

 _Okay, three minutes and ten seconds until the help arrives_ , Jason guessed.

02:04.1318

Jason rolled his eyes and baited, "I helped design the thing, you think I'm afraid of it? On the off chance, it doesn't work you lose the only one that can fix it."

Rising to his five feet and ten inches, Barnabas scoffed, "Put your money where you mouth is, wise-ass."

"No heroics. Don't do something stupid," Grayson warned, "Wait for backup." 

The alabaster man angled the B.R.A.T. in Jason's direction. A cocky smirk pulled on the corner of his lips, creating asymmetrical look of brash confidence. From the set of his shoulders to the slightly outstretched arm, his body language jeered at Jason.

Quickly gauging him and the other Mavericks, Jason held out his hand. The helmet weighed approximately two and a half pounds but felt like a ton in his hands. Rolling it in his hands, Jason looked Barnabas straight in his russet brown eyes before placing it on his head. Showily turning on his heels, he turned to face the majority of the ground.

"Can I at least have a chair?" Jason asked, buying time, "it's going to take a while."

Two minutes before support was supposed to appear, a plastic fold-out chair appeared from the sides. It sat lopsided on the uneven concrete floor. Lowering himself slowly, Jason clenched his teeth and sat on the chair. A lady knelt next to him, operating the B.R.A.T.

Buying time, Jason joked, "Marie, make sure the B.R.A.T. is gentle."

Brushing a brown curl from her face, she growled, "For the last time Adler, for the love of all that is good in the world, we're not calling it the brat. It's the brain-"

Grayson hissed, "Jason, don't play hero. Fucking hold your damn position and wait for support."

"Can we hurry this on," Barnabas interrupted, patting Jason's shoulder, "in case you forgot, we have a schedule to keep."

Jason mentally threw out a Hail Mary as the he heard the soft buzz of the machine turning on. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Marie inputting data and a progress bar blink into the screen. He swore, _Don't tell me I'm 'bout to fry my brain for a couple of goody-two shoes sidekicks._

"What is going on?" Grayson snarled, the sibilant noise scratched at Jason's eardrum. Grayson followed up in a surprisingly calm tone, "Alpha Team hurry. Weaver One is engaging in potentially life-threatening actions. Immediately interfere." 

_He's worried_ , Jason concluded after he realized the Grayson had forgotten to mute Jason's communicator.

Jason peeked at the screen: 3%. If he had been keeping proper time, the heroes should've been here ten seconds ago. If he got lucky, the good guys would get here before it got to ten. He kept careful, controlled breaths to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. He joked, as a reflex, _Heroes always have to arrive late to save the day at the last minute - except Supes._

02:00.8436

His nose smarted from a hint of an arid, earthy scent. Billowing, familiar dark smoke snaked into the room. Jason held his breathe and twisted to grab the device.

 _SHIT FUCKING COCKFACE_ , Jason internally cussed when his limbs failed to obey his commands. The numbers on the progress bar continued to grow from nine percent to twelve. Marie's eyes were wide, darting across the warehouse. Jason ransacked his memory. He hissed, _That's why he grabbed my shoulder, a paralytic._

Soon, Jason's limited vision was destroyed by the heavy smoke. From the echo of bone and concrete, one side didn't sound too good. When bullets came into the mix, Jason focused on moving his fingers, testing the strength of the paralytic and silently hoping that he wouldn't become Swiss cheese. Nothing budged.

The noise faded along with the smoke, Jason noted. A narrow muzzle hovered above his temple. If he could move, Jason would've slammed his palm into the weapon and in a twisting grab disarm the asshole who was aiming a gun at a guy who can't move a muscle. From the edge, Jason made out a smug face, Barnabas.

"If you don't want your precious double-agent dead don't move," Barnabas stated, pistol whipping Jason in the ribs.

Jason clenched his teeth, refusing to let Barnabas get a rise out of him. Flicking his gaze to the brainwave machine, Jason read the number: 33%. He could only hope that just happened to be all the recipes he learned to cook over the years or something nonsensical like all the trivia he amassed from the Harry Potter Series. As the number jumped to 34, Jason questioned how the heroes ever saved the day. 

"Double-agent?" a voice echoed, "We don't need a double-agent to bust your sorry selves."

 _Shazam_ , Jason keyed in on the annoying bravo.

"One move and he gets a bullet."

 ** _Swish_**. A curved red and yellow boomerang zoomed pass Jason's face into the muzzle of the weapon, knocking it into the air. This time Jason could see the good guys pounding on the punks in the room. Damian, instead of freeing him, jumped past him to take down Barnabas. The bar appeared half way full. 

When anyone remembered Jason and came towards him, one of the still-standing Mavericks distracted him. 86 was Jason's magic number. Red, white, and blue filled his vision. Wonder Woman knelt, maintaining eye contact as she hooked her fingers under the B.R.A.T. helmet. Carefully, she lifted it from his head.

Stepping away, he heard the clanking. The main body of the device, Jason assumed, tucked under Wonder Woman's arm. She walked back into his limited range. The twenty pound device squarely settled on her hip. She scanned the area. Her pale eyes observed him like crystal pools of water divining his future.

"J'onn," she said, turning her head away from Jason, "check Red Hood's condition. I will see how we will deal with this."

Martian Manhunter replaced Wonder Woman in his field of sight. He stepped up to Jason kneeling in front of him to look him in the eye. His red eyes, soft with compassion, peered into Jason's lapis blue eyes. His fingers hovered above Jason's temple.

Manhunter projected his thoughts into Jason's head, _I have set up a psychic connection between the two of us. I will see your physical and mental condition, Red Hood, if you experience any discomfort please tell me._

 _Understood_ , Jason thought, wondering moderately if this was how it worked or if he was making a fool out of himself.

 _That is indeed how it works_ , Manhunter confirmed as his cool fingers patted the sides of Jason's head.

A few moments passed, Manhunter stated, _It seems that you will not regain function of your body for at least an hour, I suggest that you rest. I will close your eyes so that they do not dry out._

Jason held the urge to shout 'no'. The elongated, cold fingers directed Jason's lid closed. He hadn't realized it until then but his eyes burned. The closed lids provided haven from the elements, but ensured that one of his remaining senses closed him off from the world.

The green man's clothes rustled as he straighten up. His squeaking boots moved away from Jason, fading in the distance. Left alone, trapped in his own body, Jason cataloged the fight's outcome with his ears. Focusing, he picked up the grumbling and defeated mumbling of the Mavericks. The members of the JLA who had come seemed to be doing damage control from the way they shuffled about. He focused in on Bruce's gritty, impossibly low bass. Jason mentally filtered out the other sounds to concentrate on that voice.

Wonder Woman, he believed, said, "What shall we do with this?"

"Store it in the vault," Bruce stated in his matter-of-fact tone.

 _This?_ Jason ran his mind through the possibilities and settled for the device he'd last seen Wonder Woman removing from his head.

Jason's attention shifted he heard footsteps approaching him. They were slight as if the person in possession of them were either light or carried themselves carefully. Jason struggled to open his eyes, but his muscles refused to obey him.

Clearing their voice, the person who approached Jason said, "I'm going to open your eyes, okay?"

A large, warm palm covered his face. Jason assumed to be male from their sheer size. The callus on his middle finger and along his fingertips told Jason that the person, most likely, worked with note taking maybe a journalist or a secretary. At first Jason only saw a square hand. As the figure shifted into a squatting position, the huge red 'S' on his chest gave away his identity. Superman leaned into eye level with Jason.

Superman grinned, "Hey, J'onn told me you can hear me. I'm in charge of bringing you to the medic bay. Just thought you might want to know who was carrying you."

"We have to keep your eyes closed so nothing gets in them," Superman apologized.

Superman shifted until he was inches from Jason's face. Again Jason's world went black. A pair of toned arms lifted him into the air. The noise around Jason told him that the rest of the people were similarly preparing to leave.

01:57.8341

⌛

??:??.7622

"Kid, you're lucky Dickiebird threw out my gun stash after I died," Jason growled at the too similar face peeking at him from the armchair.

The look-alike simply watched Jason, scanning his face carefully. Leaning onto his forearms, Jason glanced at Alex, he remembered Dick called him that. The kid had a mane of red hair darker than Jason imagined it to be The sun bleached Jason's several shades lighter than Al's by that age. He rubbed the lingering sand from his eyes. He shifted to get a better view of the mini-him.

Jason sighed, "Alex, why the fuck are you in my room?"

"Al," he corrected, in a voice that matched Jason's baritone without Jason's sharp edge.

Jason echoed, "Al?"

"Al," Al repeated, "my name is just Al. Dad adds to it when he yells at me because Al's too short."

Sitting up, Jason touched the floor with his toes. The chill crept up from the floor. The blanket pooled in the hollow between his legs. He blinked slowly. Sleep stalling his brain processes. It took an abnormally long time for Jason to connect the concept 'dad' with Dick.

"I can't believe Dick is raising my clone as his kid," Jason muttered.

Al commented, "You sleep shirtless too."

"As you?"

Al bobbed his head in agreement and blurted, "Dad always complains that I'm gonna get a cold sleeping like that."

Touching his temple, Jason was struck by how surreal this was - he's talking to _his_ clone that Dick made. Again his mind had trouble understanding how the always forward moving wonder boy had done something so ridiculous as create a clone. His temple throbbed slightly. Jason rubbed away the beginnings of a headache.

The creak of wood directed his attention direction forward. The clone closed the space between them without sound, only the creak of the armchair betraying him. The brat kept just out of reach of Jason's reflexive batting before ducking in to sit on the edge of the bed next to Jason. The bed sank in under the weight of two people.

"What's wrong? Your head hurt?" Al fired off question after question, "Should I bring you to the treatment area?"

Before Jason could open his mouth, his stomach answered with a stretched out grumble. The brat looked down and laughed. Touching his own stomach, he inclined his head in consideration. 

"Oh," he bobbed his head. He bounced off the bed. Taking a few steps toward the door before he turned, he said, "Let's head down then. I think dad made breakfast."

"Dick made breakfast?" Jason asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The kid inclined their head and answered, "Normally he orders lunch or dinner and he only makes breakfast sometimes. I think he's doing it for you. He pulled out Alfred's old recipe books."

"Whatever, kid, give me a few seconds to change," Jason muttered, brushing his hair out of his face.

He smiled, "I'll wait outside. I think Alfred stored your clothes in the back of the closet."

"It's fine. We're both guys," Jason replied, pushing himself off the king-sized bed.

The brat's eyes traced the blanket's descent to the ground. Jerking his head, he glanced at Jason. A tight frown tugged on his lips. His gem-colored, lapis lazulis, eyes cut through him. Pinning Jason under a microscope, his eyes analyzed Jason carefully.

"I'm not a guy," Al stated.

Jason blinked.

The kid continued, softly as if they had said this one too many times, "I'm not a lady either. I'm-" they swallowed, “neither. Agendered fits the best.”

"Oh," Jason commented, uncertainly, "Sorry, my bad. I'll keep that in mind."

A fraction of his brain inquired, _Isn't Al your clone with your brainwaves? How . . ._

"I'll wait outside," Al said, their tone muted compared to before.

Staring at the closed door, Jason shook his head. That was a question for a coffee-fueled Jason. The closet was a shrine to the old Jason, the one who was innocent and believed he could save his family. Pushing those much too small clothes aside, he discovered boxes stacked in the back and along the walls of the mini walk-in closet. Each box was labeled in Alfred's neat handwriting: Jason's insert name of item from location. Clothes were stacked in the front. Applications seemed to be hidden toward the back.

Scanning the locations, Jason realized that six of his Gotham safe houses and two of his Blüdhaven ones had been breached and stripped clean. None of the boxes were labeled weapons, but he had a feeling Bruce had something to do with that. He pulled out one of the boxes and tore off the tape. He put on the first pair of jeans and t-shirt he found.

Opening his door, Jason spotted Al leaned wall beside his door. Their hands hidden in the folds of their arms. They seemed taller than Jason was at their age, then again he'd missed half his meals growing up. Watching them straightening up, they reached Jason's shoulders, falling only a few inches short of Dick. As Al stepped away from the wall, they paused a moment gesturing for Jason to follow with a millimeter jerk of their head.

??:??.5182

The scent of chocolate wafted in from the dining room, mixed in with the sweet smell of maple syrup. Jason could almost taste the bacon and eggs that also occupied the table. Entering the elongated room, Jason paused at the threshold as Al zoomed past him to steal a seat by Dick who ate cereal at the head of the table. Tall stacks of waffles filled the quarter of the table Dick had set up, followed by eggs, bacon, hash, and fruit. Jason eyed the waffles and recalled Al told him that Dick had taken the recipe out of Alfred's books.

Jason's eyes darted to Dick's back and wondered if he'd done something to piss Dick off. His eyes jumped back to the deceptively deliciously smelling waffles. A chair screeched as Dick turned. The sky blue eyes traced Jason's line of sight to the waffles. Flicking to Jason, Dick covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. He shifted to away.

"Don't worry they're my waffles," Dick commented, his voice jumping slightly as a chuckle leaked out.

"Promise?"

Dick's head shifted, scanning the room. He hummed, "I would never wish Alfred's waffles on anyone. Sorry Alfred."

Sliding into the seat by Dick's right, Jason added, "He's a great cook, but his waffles were evil."

"You know, I only found out even Bruce hated them after Alfred died?"

Jason inhaled, sharply. His eyes jumped around the room, searching for the absence figure. He reached for a waffle with his fork, breaking it into pieces. He placed one in his mouth. The buttery batter crunched open splitting dark chocolate deposits into his tongue. Chewing quickly, Jason swallowed.

Swallowing again as he thought, _Those definitely aren't Alfred's waffles._

Jason's world shook, shifting on its axis. Alfred had always been there. Jason couldn't describe the emotion spinning in his stomach, a large gaping hole threatening to consume him. The Manor didn't quite feel the same. The dining room along with the rest of the Manor appeared larger without a single change in mass or volume.

"It really has been ten years, hasn't it?" Jason sighed.

Dick dropped his spoon. Clanking along the ceramic, it sank halfway into the bowl. Dick shifted his body to face Jason. His eyes observed Jason like a parched man drinking water after traveling through a desert.

"A lot has changed, Jaybird."

"Considering Alfie's not the only that's not here," Jason began, "did Calendar Man finally do Bruce in?"

Dick blinked, the wrinkles around his deepening. _Fffuuu_ He exhaled before opening them. His thin lips turned up at the corners, a small amused grin.

"He's not in field anymore, but he's still alive 'n kicking. He's actually kicking some young Batman Inc. trainees into shape as we speak. Calendar Man, on the other hand, is reformed and volunteers at Arkham every week, last I checked."

Processing the information, Jason commented, "I guess you're back under the cowl."

Shaking his head like a bobble-head in a hurricane, Dick stated, "Damian took over two years ago."

"Where's the brat?" Jason asked, looking around the room again.

"Damian?" Dick sought clarification.

Al chimed in, "He's in charge of combat training this week for the League."

Jason stared at Dick. Last he checked the League kept mostly to themselves unless a dire, Earth-threatening even occurred.

Dick clarified, "Like I said, a lot changed since you. . ." Dick corrected himself, "because you died. The JLA's a bit more than a group of heroes now. But we can talk about that later. First eat then we check out how you came back."

Dick picked up his spoon. Beside him, Al shoved in food like it was about to vanish. His own stomach encouraging him, Jason picked up a healthy portion of waffles and hash only to top it off with an artery clogging stack of bacon. He placed a small pile of fruit on the side.

"Al, when's Damian coming back?" Dick questioned the teen whose cheeks swelled up like a hamster's from the food stuffed into them.

"Three days, I think."

"Alright, if he asks, you've been training every day at six."

"Wait, I hafta train today?" Al exclaimed, "Doesn't my original coming back to life give me a day off?"

"Tomorrow," Dick compromised, "but you still have to study today. Also, Al you're not -"

Al interrupted, "Yeah, yeah. I know, Dad. I'm not a copy. I'm my own person."

Jason focused on his food. A strange sensation settled on his skin as he listened in on the father-child discussion as normal as it could be for a family of vigilantes. He'd heard heard the conversation and knew the tone from all the times he'd complained to Bruce: I know, but it’s hard not to compare myself to the original boy wonder. Chewing on his eggs, he couldn't put his finger on why it sounded so strange now.

??:??.2259

"I'm surprised Bruce Junior didn't change the code," Jason commented as the Dick set hour hand to ten and the minute to just after the nine on the grandfather clock.

"He did. Everyone kept getting confused so we changed it back," Dick answered.

The large timepiece shifted to reveal two poles. Al quickly swung into one on the right, usually used for the current Robin. Dick gestured for Jason to go first. Landing on the concrete, Jason stepped out of the way. He heard Dick's soft landing after him.

The cavern matched Jason's memory except for the increased number of cases along the far left corner. In addition to old Batman and Robin uniforms sat a black uniform that Jason didn't recognize and next to that sat the red and brown uniform that belonged to Jason minus the guns. Jason raised his brow and looked at Dick.

Dick blinked in return.

"Bruce actually let my Red Hood costume into this place?" Jason vocalized his amazement.

Dick looked at the display, a frown etching wrinkles into the sides of his mouth. He sighed and shook his head slightly. His eyes darted between Jason and the Red Hood ensemble.

"Dad," Al called, drawing their attention.

"Yes?"

"I set everything up," Al answered.

Turning, Jason saw several programs opened on the Bat-Monitor. A few that looked suspiciously a lot like a copy of Jason's medical records and similar health information. A bulky chair set up off the side of the monitor looked like something out of sci-fi movie, a dental/medical chair fusion with restraints. A few medical monitors were to the left of the chair.

Pointing, Dick directed, "Sit down and we'll see . . ."

"What the fuck happened to me?" Jason supplemented.

"Yeah."

Several electrodes were connected to his temple, chest, and fingers. A few needles and cheek swabs in. Dick poked and prodded Jason, taking DNA and blood samples. Jason blinked.

He questioned, "When'd you become a doctor?"

"I have a cybernetic teen," Dick began, "Not many doctors know how to deal with one. I had to pick some things up. So in this case, I might be better than a normal doctor."

"Not let Stephanie hear that," Al coughed from the sidelines.

He pulled on latex gloves and began to examine Jason with his slender fingers. The latex felt like a strange barrier through which Jason felt the roughness of Dick's hand. Dick's touch was brief and to the point as he essentially groped Jason.

The orange tinted red mane danced around Jason's periphery, watching Jason as Dick examined him. They managed to avoid Dick as they darted around the chair's edge. Pausing by Jason's right, they leaned into the chair.

Thinking aloud, Al muttered, "It's interesting to see someone else go through maintenance."

"Check-up," Dick corrected.

When Dick finished his examination of Jason, he removed his gloves. Dick walked right and turned to face the screen. He leaned onto the keyboard. His face contorting as he read the data. His eyes narrowed as he continued reading. Jason watched with mildly nervous of Dick's expression grew darker and darker.

"Impossible," Dick muttered repeatedly, "impossible."

"What?" Jason questioned.

Standing up, he edged his way to the monitor. Circling Dick, he stepped in to read the incomprehensible set of numbers and jargon. He understood that several lines connected two data sets and that the composition of those sets had microscopic differences. Nothing else stood out to Jason.

Dick mumbled, "That can't be."

From the other side of Dick, Al inquired, "That's my data set, isn't it?"

"No," Dick paused, "It's Jason's, but that impossible."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Jason hissed.

Flipping around to face Jason, Dick parked the edge of his ass on the keyboard. He ran his fingers through his fringe. His hand tucked atop his right bicep. Dick's eyes darted between Al and Jason several times. His hand settled under the crook formed by his left below. His fingers drummed on his bicep.

Dick sighed, "Jason, you're a cyborg - it looks like the same combination of nanites and organic materials Al is, but that's impossible since I never intended. . ."

"Wait?" Jason shouted, barely maintaining his composure, "Are you saying I'm an android?"

Dick corrected, "Cyborg. Your meld of machine and man makes you a cyborg."

Shocked, Jason hissed, "I'm not human. I'm calling bullshit."

Unexpectedly, Al spoke. Their shoulders squared up, defensively. They stepped into between Jason and Dick. Their voice trembling with emotion, they asserted, "No, you're still human. You've lived through a previous resurrection, alien invasions, Atlantean assaults, literal demons raids. And this is where you draw the line?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was confused, the time stamps should be read like this Minutes:Seconds:Deciseconds.centisecond. 
> 
> If anyone wants to grab them, these are my handcrafted .epub, .mobi, and pdf files for download which better reflect the formatting and style I had in mind for Life’s Hour. [Link here.](https://mega.nz/#F!9RQ3gRIC!jndVB5iFUCHYOUhjI_rhQw)


	3. Themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to the lovely [Hatake_Kai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatake_Kai/pseuds/Hatake_Kai)

# Chapter 3: Themes

07:03.6752

 _I didn't kill anyone and I managed to salvage the mission,_ Jason mentally grumbled, _What if it wasn't the right reaction according to their playbook? I consider that a win in my book. But no the fucking Justice League can't handle anything less than perfect._

Slamming his fist on his cot, Jason drew in a long, grounding breath. The dull ache did nothing for the irritation welting up in his spirit. The thought of the leotard clad men and women looking down on him made Jason shake with anger. His head exploded with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He felt the blood rushing to his head, making him lightheaded with ire.

Clenching his teeth, he inhaled deeply and internally hissed, _Calm down. No fucking way is a headache going to help you. Just get this mission over with and you won't hafta play by their rules anymore. You won't even hafta see their faces if you don't want to._

He pushed back on the cot, pulling himself closer to the wall. Crossing his legs, he rested his hands on his knees. Pushing his shoulders down and straightening out his back, Jason corrected his posture. Lowering his eyelids, he drew in a measured breath and exhaled slowly. He focused his mind on his breathing and allowed other thoughts to move to the periphery.

At a knock of the door, Jason hissed, "Who gonna lecture me now?"

The previous tension returned to his body, balling his hands into fists. Jason bit the inside of his mouth and decided to ignore the door. As he inhaled, his door vibrated with the rapping of someone's fist. **Thump. Thump. Thump.** His close cut nails dug into his palms. Forcefully unclenching his tightly clasped hands, Jason took another deep lungful of air to save his meditation attempt. **Thump. Thump. Thump.** The knocking grew in volume.

Snapping his eyes open, Jason marched to the door. The monitor beside the door showed a slender figure. The ever whimsical Dick waved at Jason through the camera. Jason's hand hovered over the command panel. His playful grin and relaxed stance suggested that he wasn't here for business. The slight throbbing headache he'd developed taking on the JLA's judgments encouraged Jason to step away from the door.

When Jason noticed Dick's arm rising once more, he hit the entry button. The door rolled open. Shoving his hands his pockets, Jason gestured for Dick to enter with a jerk of his head. He pressed another button to close the door to the one person room the League had assigned him.

"What do you want Dickie?" Jason muttered, rubbing his temple.

Dick angled his head, scanning Jason's face. Plopping onto Jason messy cot, he pulled a pillow onto his lap. Dick patted the space next to him. He peered up at Jason expectantly. His hands fiddled with the cushion in his hands.

Jason pulled the chair from the desk to the left of the bed. Rolling it in front of Dick, he sat down. A small toddler could fit in the space between them. Crossing his arms, Jason thrusted his chin up, a silent inquiry. Bad idea. His head didn't agree with the action. The pain jolted through his head. Jason clenched his teeth and swallowed the ache.

"Thought someone should check up on you after everyone had it at you," Dick answered.

Arching his eyebrow, Jason responded, "My cover wasn't blown. No need to worry."

"Seriously, how are you, Little Wing?" Dick asked.

Jason summed up, "I did something. They disapproved. I disagreed. They disagreed. I think you can see the pattern from there."

"I talked to Damian. He'll keep what he saw to himself," Dick offered.

Leaning back in his seat, Jason joked, "Like there aren't already rumors that I'm a bad guy."

"Pfft," Dick bit down a laugh, "Says the one inside the Justice League's HQ. You sure you're alright?"

"This is a onetime deal. I'm in more or less one piece. Who set you up to this?" Jason asked, gesturing between the two of them.

"No one. I feel a bit responsible for this. I dragged you into this after all."

Jason frowned, "Well, don't. I decided to take on this mission of yours."

 _Don't remind me,_ Jason muttered, _that no matter how old I get, I'm still following your footsteps._

"You're not doing half bad for someone who was strong armed into being a hero," Dick chuckled, flashing his signature, irritatingly pleasant grin.

The prickling pain in his head turned Dick's grin into the sun invading his bedroom in the morning. Dick was a _happy_ person. Shaking his head slightly, Jason exhaled and reflected, _How can you catch up to someone who doesn't know you're racing after them?_

"If you're done playing the concerned older brother bit, the door's that way," Jason commented, pointing behind himself. 

Angling his head, Dick quickly surveyed Jason's features. The slow, careful blinking relayed his confusion. Jason waited, jerking his head in the direction of the door. He suppressed a flinch at the particular action.

Dick leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his lap. His hands were clasped together. The knuckles slightly white at the edges. Dick peered at Jason from between his lashes. His grin faded.

"I'm not trying to fight, Jason," Dick began, "I just wanted to talk."

Jason felt a two year old being told not to throw a tantrum.

Reacting like two year old, Jason grumbled, "You're not my brother, so stop trying to act like it."

A valley formed between Dick's eyebrows as they dipped down. His eyes darted between the door and Jason. His demeanor changed, in retrospect that should've been a sign. Dick planned both feet flat on the floor and straightened out. His face arranged in an uncharacteristically flat expression.

Dick said, plainly, "I am definitely concerned about you, but not as family. I don't think Alfred or anyone would call my concern brotherly." 

At his sentence's end, his features relaxed. His eyes lazily scanned Jason's figure and he winked when he met Jason's eyes. A smirk worked its way along Dick's lips. Taking a moment to process the information, Jason did a double take. 

"If you're trying to hit on me, talking about Alfred isn't the way to go," Jason hissed as he mentally batted away the images of a horrified Alfred.

"Got you to stop frowning didn't I?"

"Horror's not a better emotion," Jason shot back.

"Well, there's ways to fix that," Dick teased, leaning closer to Jason.

Jason mumbled, "Seriously? Why would you even take this route?"

"It's not a bad one unless it doesn't work. Do you want to join me in bed or not?" Dick asked, holding out his hand.

Jason sighed, "You're ridiculous."

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"What?"

Putting the dots together, Jason groaned, "No."

Dick beamed. His hand still hovered, waiting for Jason's response. Dick's playful energy felt like a spontaneous game of tag. Unable to resist, Jason was drawn into Dick's pace. Jason felt his own bitter frown lift a few degrees.

As he took Dick's hand, Dick's grin widen. Jason literally watched Dick's happiness intensify. Jason saw how so many people adored the original Robin. Jason noticed his mood improved, catching Dick's infectious good-nature.

Dick tugged Jason out of his chair and toward the bed. Dick leaned closer until their breath mingled and stopped. Closing the gap between their lips, Jason recalled the other reason people were attracted to Dick. His tongue skillfully coaxed Jason's mouth open. His fingers pulled Jason's toward the hem of his shirt. Dick was a crowd pleaser at heart.

05:38.1255

Adjusting the Jason's earpiece, Dick leaned back. He quickly scanned Jason's figure. Stepping away, Dick bit his lip.

"Remember your orders?" Dick checked.

"Same as always. The 'bring me to your master' bit," Jason mocked.

"Jason," Dick hissed.

"Check their progress and keep an eye out for their top brass," Jason reworded.

He pulled his jacket closer to his body. The deep red cloth had a snake embroidered in black thread over his breast. The only splash of color on his black and gray ensemble. The chill of the Watchtower bled through his layers of clothes.

 _Someone's not paying the heater bill,_ Jason thought, frowning.

Pressing his left arm against his ribs, he felt an absence. Perhaps that he felt colder than usual. No guns when he typically had three on his body at any time was strange to say the least. The sensation wasn't something he'd ever get use to despite all the time he'd spent without them lately.

Abel Adler didn't care for guns or weapons of any kind which made Jason mentally cursed Dick for picking such a vulnerable identity or perhaps good ol' Bruce had picked it. Abel Adler fit his typical naming scheme. His love of electronics made it very easy to sneak things in though.

Pressing his finger on his mouthpiece, Dick tested, "Check. Can you hear me, Weaver One?"

Jason nodded.

Tapping the side of his wrist, Dick raised his brow knowingly.

Activating mic hidden in his wristwatch, Jason answered, "Yes."

"The drive?"

Jason tapped his pocket.

"What's your extraction code?"

"Party."

"I'm looking forward to see how you incorporate that. Mavericks started gathering on site around eight. No other suspicious activity has been reported," Dick informed.

Dick continued, "I'm going to turn off your wire and tracking device. If you don't turn them back on after you go through inspection, I'm sending the support in."

Holding up the re-purposed smart watch, Jason asked, "I'm off then?"

"Try not to out do us heroes too badly," Dick cheerfully quipped, covering his mic. 

"Don't worry about that I'll be out of your hair as soon as this is all over," Jason promised, drawing a circle in the air. 

Saluting Dick, Jason pressed the buttons revert the watch back into an average smartwatch. Walking across the floor, Jason entered the large cavernous Zeta-Tube. Sweeping the command center, Jason spotted the Alice Blue eyes of Bruce 2.0 glaring at him from the main doorway. Then the space filled with a blinding light and the air heated up.

Opening his eyes, Jason questioned how any of the caped ones kept their eyes open during the trip. Blinking, Jason waited for the spots of lights dancing behind his eyes to fade. He used the time to scan his location. Pitiful sunlight filtered through a broken panel covering the skylight. Dust swirled in the whitish light. Several crates formed a towering dust-covered wall.

Stepping out of the Zeta-Tube, Jason blinked as the air flickered. He moved forward. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the cloaking field snap back into focus. Behind him sat rows of rusted filing cabinets. Turning, he marched pass the crates to find the exit in this labyrinth of crates labeled Wayne Enterprises.

Entering the blurry morning light, Jason pulled to the left. Each warehouse in the unit was similarly block-shaped and weather-beaten. His location was six buildings down which was equivalent to the length of roughly two fields. The walk gave him time to get into character. He muttered softly to himself, "Adler, nerd extraordinaire." 

Walking up to one of the nondescript building, Jason noted that they'd put another set of locks to the door. He inhaled and fixed a goofy Flash-esque grin on his face. He slammed his fist on the metal door causing the sound to each across the empty lot.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice grunted through the door.

Jason joked, "Guess who?"

"Leave."

"It's Adler. Buzz kill Marco," Jason dramatically sighed.

The chipped red door opened to reveal a man, who had about three inches on Jason. For an extended second, he stared at Jason, his eyes narrow with judgment. He growled, "Turn around."

Marco waved a metal detector around Jason's body, pausing when it beeped at Jason's waist. He held his arm up to show off his watch. Digging through his pocket, he also dramatically revealed his phone. Marco raised his eyebrow and stepped back.

"You're not gonna fry my toys are you, buddy?" Jason laughed, shaking his phone in the air.

Patting the man's arm, Jason felt the muscles flex under his fingers and Jason mentally prepped himself for a punch. He felt a moderate pressure. Instead a fist tapped his shoulder, Marco looked down at Jason and chuckled, "The Boss is gonna kill ya for being late, smart aleck."

Shaking his head, Jason commented, "Some of us need our beauty sleep, not that it'd help out Barns much."

"Hah," Marco scoffed, shaking his head, "if you want to lose your head, that ain't my business. Let's go."

"If I die, you can just add my name to the long list of tattoos you have of exes."

Marco growled, "How'd you know about that?"

"Seriously, man?" Jason gasped, "Didn't anyone tell you the only names you get tattooed are your mama, kids, or pets?"

"Stop talking before I'm the reason you can't," Marco growled.

Jason mimed zipping his mouth shut. Jason teased, "I don't plan on becoming a kebab."

Entering partition room the Mavericks used as a prep room, Jason leaned on the back wall. He made a show of checking his fingernails ignoring the brown eyes trying to tear him to pieces. Switching hands, Jason was lucky that Barnabas's ability wasn't killing with his eyes or Jason would've died ten times over by the first week.

From his periphery, Jason estimated about thirty of the Mavericks were in the makeshift auditorium. Not all the faces were familiar, but no one had the aura of the mysterious Sponsor whom Barnabas always bragged of. 

"Now that everyone is here," Barnabas began in a loud, echoing voice, "Let me say that we are closer to our goal than ever! For too long, aliens, freaks, and others have put on spandex and called themselves our heroes. These so called heroes do as they please without repercussion. . . ."

04:13.3316

"If we all do our part, together we will end the age of heroes," Barnabas finished.

Jason joined the standing applause Barnabas's pep speech received. He eyed the crowd to isolate any outliers. Jason allowed the dispersing crowd to carry him deeper into the warehouse. Floodlights lit up the space. Walking pass the racks of weapons, Jason made his way to the far left wall. While the rest of the walls were bare, machines and two large generators took up the wall. Next to them were an array of caged animals and medical equipment.

 _Click, click. Click, click._ The sounds of heels on concrete came from behind Jason. He looked over his shoulder to see Marie. Turning to face her, Jason waved.

"Can't you pretend to be professional?" Marie asked, her tone low and tired.

Her honeyed hair sat on the top of hair in a neat bun. The orderly appearance matched her wrinkle-free collared shirt and pencil skirt in the suggested gray hues that the Mavericks all wore. Only her white lab coat differentiated her from all the others. Her left arm cradled a clipboard and a pencil settled between the index finger and thumb of her right hand.

Jason replied, "What's the fun in that? I'm here for the challenge not to make friends."

She sighed, "Fine, Darwin finished up the majority of the program. All you have to do is add the bells and whistles. You can do that can't you?"

She pointed at him with the tip of her pencil. Jason blinked taking a moment to process the information. He swallowed.

 _Oh, fuck! That's not part of the plan,_ Jason thought as the possibilities played out in his head.

_It was never supposed to work and we still don't know who's sponsoring this. Damn fucking shit._

"Adler?" Marie asked, craning her head to observe him.

Inhaling, Jason drew himself to his full six feet and two inches. Getting ready to put on a show, Jason balled up his hands and positioned his feet firmly on the ground. He puffed out his chest. 

"Darwin did what?" Jason hissed, baring his teeth, "who let him touch MY program. He's only supposed to **_assist_** me."

Shaking her head, Marie commented, "Dividing the job speeds up the project."

Her tone carried the weariness of a mother lecturing her two year old for throwing its seventh tantrum of the day. A bratty kid, Jason could work with that. Narrowing his head, Jason raised his voice, allowing it to echo throughout the warehouse.

Leaning in on Marie, Jason growled, "That's not your call to make."

"But it is mine," Barnabas interrupted, wedging himself between Marie and Jason. 

"No one was supposed to write that program but me," Jason hissed, "now I have no idea how that kid fucked up my -"

Barnabas held his hand up to silence Jason. His head was inclined as if he were smelling rotting cheese mixed with in a sewage system. Jason keep his ground, centimeters from Barnabas's face.

Clearing his voice, Barnabas suggested, "Perhaps we should handle this elsewhere."

"Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it here."

"I don't think that's the best idea, Abel," Barnabas said in a cloying friendly tone.

Jason scanned the area. Just like a school fight, there were different groupings of people. Many blatantly watched Jason's display, edging closer to get a better sight. Several individuals watched Jason from a distance with weary eyes. The two men behind Barnabas appeared as though they had emotionally rolled up their sleeves and were ready to take a crack at Jason. Pretending to control himself, Jason followed Barnabas back to the auditorium.

"What seems to be the problem, Abel?" Barnabas asked, a plastic grin molded onto his face.

"Why did you let someone else touch my program," Jason snarled.

Holding his hands out, Barnabas mimicked a defense stance. He stepped back, giving Jason room. Waiting an elongated minute, Jason mined settling down. Jason had to do whatever he could to stall.

"Abel, the Mavericks are a joint effort. Everything we do is for the greater good," Barnabas began.

"I don't care for that philosophical babble. I passed your test to join your group because you had a challenge for me and now you decide I'm _not good enough for it?!_

"The decision to add Darwin to the project was made by our Sponsor."

"Who are they?" Jason pushed, "you always talk about them, but I've never seen them around! What gives them the right to -"

From the main warehouse, there came a clattering noise of glass shattering. Flashing red lights filled the space, Jason's mouth snapped shut. His ears picked up the vague sounds of fighting. Watching Barnabas, Jason saw the genuine surprise flash across his face. In the same second, he sprinted toward the door, yanking it open.

 _Fuck,_ Jason thought as he peered around Barnabas.

A colorful array of spandex clad teens rained down from the ceiling. The glass crunched under their feet. When Jason saw the familiar red, green, and yellow outfit blur pass him, something clicked. Damian hadn't been in the Watchtower for pleasure.

Glancing at Barnabas, Jason coughed, "I guess that alarm doesn't signal a surprise sex _**party**_."

Grayson's voice suddenly echoed in his ear, "Copy that. Support is on its way. Can you give me any more details?"

"Adler," Barnabas hissed, staring at him in obvious annoyance.

"Don't look at me. I hack and steal stuff. There's nothing in my resume about fighting super powered brats."

"Understood," Grayson acknowledged, "Backup should be there in fifteen."

Just as quickly as the red of the alarms had filled his eyes, the unbearably warm heat of flames filled the warehouse. Jason's eyes jumped straight to Marco. To Jason's right, Marco had one of the Teen Titans in a choke hold. The kid's head inches from a fire. 

"Move and your little friend becomes barbeque."

Leaning on the concrete, Jason sealed the cable ties around the green gloved wrists. He left just enough space for Damian to wriggle free if needed. Damian glared at him and Jason tilted his head in the direction of his watch. The Wayne Enterprise logo shined from above the screen. Damian lowered his head, keeping his wrists together.

Jason stood up and stepped away from Damian. He entered the sidelines and fixed his expression into one of concern. Watching the row of bound teens, Jason looked around the room. Grim expressions lined many of the faces. Like many of the others, Marie's eyes flicked from face to face with distrust. Voices buzzed: _rat, traitor, snake._ Tension turned the air into a block of nerves. Edging closer to the Titans, Jason's mind began to plan for a riot.

Behind the teens entered Barnabas. He waited, keeping quiet, until all the whispering died down and all eyes were on him. For a moment, he shifted looking every of the tens of people in the eye.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say these unwelcomed guest are disheartening; however, I implore you to look at the silver lining. For the children to come, that means we have been doing something right. We have entered their radar but they underestimate us. We can use that to our advantage. Before the so-called heroes realize their grave mistake, we will strike."

Walking through the tied up Teen Titans, Barnabas headed toward Jason. His pale hand cupped Jason's shoulder. The owner of the excessively affectionate gesture directed Jason to face him. An unsettlingly amiable expression made up his features. He clapped his hand.

Barnabas suggested, "Perhaps it is best we put our differences aside and finish up our project."

"You think one of us helped them?" Jason interrupted.

"Regardless of whether or not there was an insider, now that the sidekicks are here it shouldn't take too long for the heroes to follow behind. We cannot afford to let these kids derail our plans, don't you agree Adler?"

"I'm a not going to be a **_party_** pooper after all of this," Jason commented, gesturing between the Teen Titans and everyone else.

Grayson suggested, "Keep your head down, Weaver One. Help is on its way."

Walking as slowly as he could without being suspicious, Jason dug in his pocket for the flash drive that Cyborg had programed. Connecting it into the USB port, Jason randomly hid buttons and allowed Cyborg's software to do its work.

If he recalled properly, it should only marginally add to the program. Closing his eyes, Jason remembered that it was intended for a grossly under-prepared code. He could only hope that Darwin hadn't done enough to finish.

 _The worst case I have to take down a gang of thirty with a snot-nosed brat and no weapons_ , Jason groaned.

Considering how closely clustered they are, Jason knew he could take out about six to eight before anyone noticed. Factoring in typical reaction times, that was another three to five down without a problem. If the kid had paid attention in training, another five would be down easy. That left eighteen hostiles and seven hostages. Jason didn't like the odds.

⌛

* * *

After ensuring that the Cave was clear, he walked toward the Bat-Computer. Pausing, the glint from the displays to his left caught his eye. Dick's attention shifted between the green, red, and yellow ensemble and the gray, tan, and red outfit on display. A knot of emotions squirmed in his chest.

 _Bruce always punished himself,_ Dick thought, prying his eyes away.

Swallowing, he circled the seat and collapsed into it. Pulling out his cell, Dick dialed Babs. He drummed his fingers along the armrest as the dial beeped. Within a few seconds, the phone connected.

"You better have a good reason for waking me up at three."

"Good morning to you too," Dick chuckled.

_I'd forgotten about time zones._

"Dick," Babs threatened.

Running his fingers through his hair, Dick sighed, "Do you remember how I asked you a favor seven-eight years ago? Has there been any activity on those materials since then?"

"Off the top of my head, no. Dick, why are you asking about that?"

"Babs, don't worry about it. I just need you to double check it," Dick comforted. 

"Dick," the word rolled tentatively around her voice, "I won't ask for specifics, but you're not planning on doing something ridiculous again, right?"

"No, it's honestly just to make me feel better," Dick twisted his phrase.

Babs stayed silent on the other line.

"I'm in a better place now, Babs. I won't ever do something like that again."

"Okay. Can it wait until I'm actually awake?" she said breathlessly as if she'd held it since the beginning of their conversation.

"Sure, thanks Babs. You're the best."

Just before he hung up, Dick picked up Babs muttering, "You bet I am."

* * *

⌛

??:??.4224

Staring at the ceiling, Jason wondered how much sleep he'd gotten. Glancing to the outside, the sky slept wrapped up in a quilt of wispy clouds. The moon hovered at horizon reluctant to let go of the night. Closing his eyes, Jason felt sleep evading him.

Instead his mind whirled, the gears in his brain churned, running over the details of yesterday. It jerked and paused to make sense of it all and failed. He was the boy who lived, twice. Switching channels, he saw in his mind's eye a disgruntled teen with squared up shoulders and a trembling voice.

 _"This is where you draw the line?"_ echoed in his ears. The voice familiar yet foreign played like a broken record. Each permutation growing in volume, demanding his attention.

 _Al,_ Jason recalled, _My clone and Dick's kid._

His mind threw a curveball at him, _Your clone. Doesn't that make him your son or like twin brother?_

"I haven't slept enough for this," Jason refused.

Patting his cheeks, Jason sat up. Arching his back, he stretched his arms over his head. He read the alarm that sat on the nightstand: 6:05. Standing up, Jason dragged himself toward the closet. 

Resting his hand on the handle, he paused before opening the door. The closet was an archive. The hangers were lined with a colorful array of flannel shirts, bomber jackets, graphic tees, and worn jeans from the three years he'd lived in the Manor. Toward the back were two rows of boxes stacked to his waist, only the top box was torn open. Trying not to think about it, Jason pulled out a black tee and a pair of dark jeans.

Popping downstairs, he saw that the kitchen was empty. Jason found Dick in the Bat-Cave. His periwinkle shirt wrinkled in ways that suggested he'd pulled it out of the hamper rather than the closet. One hand clacked away the keyboard and the other pinned documents down. Stats flashed across the screen responding to his input. From a distance, Jason saw his name and figured it was the data that they'd gathered on him yesterday. He walked, stopping about a two feet to the left of Dick. 

Dick looked up, blinking slowly. He spun his seat around to face Jason. Bobby pins fastened his fringe out of his face. Brushing the loose strands of hair under his ear, Dick's eyes darted across Jason's face.

"Hey," Dick greeted.

Jason echoed, "Hey."

"Isn't it still too early to be up?" Dick asked, craning his head to check the monitor's clock: 6:15 AM.

"I guess dying makes you listless."

Dick's gaze snapped to Jason. His shoulders jerked up like he's been shocked. His chest dropping as he exhaled slowly.

"Too soon?" Jason commented, stepping closer.

Breathing in, Dick focused on the space behind Jason. Meeting Jason's gaze, Dick's sky-colored irises clouded over and cleared up within a blink of each other. Shifting his weight between the balls of his feet, the hairs on the back of Jason's neck stood up. Jason bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms.

Dick suddenly linked his fingers, turning his palms toward Jason. Dick stretched his arms out and pointed his toes toward the ground. He relaxed into his seat. Rubbing his face, the earlier unrecognizable expression faded from Dick's faces.

Changing topics, Dick asked, "What did you come down here for?"

"What?"

 _Right, Al. I came here to fix some awkwardness not create more,_ Jason remembered.

"I pissed Al off pretty badly, didn't I?" Jason questioned.

Shaking his head, Dick commented, "Probably? If you apologize, they'll probably forgive you. If that doesn't work, beg. And if that doesn't work, get them fries and a shake. Al's an understanding kid for the most part."

"Oh."

Drumming on the armrest, Dick inquired, "Anything else?"

Jason searched his for a question to fill the sudden silence his eyes wandered the Bat-Cave. Dick stood up, moving to Jason's left. The Bat-Computer made a series of high-pitched noises, hurrying Jason: _beep, beep, beep._

Landing on the cowl on far end of the costume displays, Jason blurted out, "Has Bruce given up leading the JLA yet?"

"Give up? Are we talking about the same person?" Dick joked.

Dick continued, "Wonder Woman's in charge now, but Bruce helps from the sidelines sometimes."

"I'm surprised you got him to retire."

Running his hands through his hair, Dick muttered, "It took the third intervention, half the Justice League, Damian, Tim, Step, Babs, Harper, I, the lasso of truth, a nearly successful alien invasion, and a shattered kneecap." 

"That reminds me, how's mini-Bruce doing as Batman?" Jason added.

"He's. . ." Dick paused, searching for the word, " _effective._ "

Jason recalled effective twisted like that in one other occasion, the description of Red Hood. Jason requested clarification, "As effective as me?"

"No, he's just not opposed to an extra broken bone or two," Dick frowned, deepening the lines of his mouth.

"I'm surprise you haven't rubbed off on him since you're aroun -" Jason paused, reorganizing his thoughts, "Did you move to the Manor?"

Crossing his arms, Dick muttered, "I'm sort of under house arrest."

Stepping back, Jason blurted, "What'd you do? Threaten to tell everyone Bruce was the Bat?" 

"I dislocated my shoulder," Dick answered sheepishly.

Jason blinked, knitting his brows together. Giving Dick a once over, Jason opened and closed his mouth at a sudden loss for words. After an elongated minute, he snorted, "Just a dislocated shoulder, maybe -"

Jason's mouth slammed shut as Dick suddenly removed his long sleeve shirt. A yellowish brown bruise the size of Texas took up Dick's left shoulder and a section of his chest. Purple and blue formed two distinct rings around it, implying his self-imposed mistreatment. It looked like someone has poured a pot of curry on Dick and stained his flesh.

Dick confessed, "I might've kept fighting on it for three . . ."

Jason attention shifted. Along the yellowed blob was a broken trail of a purple kiss marks. The layers of bruising didn't mask the myriad of scars Dick's amassed throughout his career. A splattering of crescent marks formed the backdrop of geode like bruise. Directly below it. a slash mark cupped his left hip. Several experiences marked Dick's skin - an occupational hazard for a ward of the famous Gotham Knight.

Jason's train of thought stalled as his eyes fixed on Dick's right side. On Dick's ribcage sat a discolored area that wasn't much more than two fingers' width. Puckered, darker flesh formed a circle the size of a quarter with jagged lines escaping from it, an electrical burn. A scar that Jason had never seen.

His gaze turn to Dick's face, catching the small crow's feet surrounding his clear eyes. Jason crossed his arms, a particular emotion prickling along his nerves. His senses were a violin played by a gorilla.

 _Ten years passed. Dick's,_ Jason quickly did the math, _44\. Dick's sixteen years older than me._

There's a gap between knowing something and understanding it. The ground gradually opened up under Jason. Ten years passed.

 **Ten years** passed. Jason drew in a careful breathe. His train of thought went off the tracks into uncharted territory.

From six to sixteen, the distance between them had increased without Jason ever even seeing Dick's shadow. Jason was a few feet from the starting line. Dick and everyone else he knew was two-third of the way to the finish line.

"Jason?" Dick inquired.

Blinking, Jason realized Dick's shirt magically recovered his body.

"I said, breakfast."

Jason nodded.

??:??.1788

The hash on Jason' plate barely had two forkfuls missing. The potatoes, onions, bell peppers, steak, and spices felt the same on his tongue. For the most part, Jason sectioned off the pieces and swallowed. Looking up, he saw that Al still had their face angled so that Jason couldn't make eye contact. Their message bag hung haphazardly off the back of the chair.

"Dad, can you tell Ray not to make me lunch?" Al asked.

"Sure. Where are you going, Alley Cat?" Dick replied, setting a fork on his empty plate.

Al quickly fired off, "The Titan's Tower." 

"Don't skip training."

"We're going to have a laser tag afterward. So I can go?" Al questioned as they jumped out of their seat.

Dick nodded, "NO tagging along on any of their missions. Put your dishes in the sink."

"Yeah, yeah," Al smiled. 

Plates and utensils clattered as Al scrambled to take them all in one go. Jason felt the uncomfortable gaze. Turning his head, Jason saw Dick staring at him. Having caught his attention, Dick pointed at the kitchen. 

Confused, Jason blinked.

Dick mouthed, "Talk to Al."

_Oh right._

"Bye dad," Al shouted.

Al snaked around the table. Al slung on their messenger bag. Al sprinted for the hall.

"Wait," Jason called out.

Al froze on the boundary line between the dining room and the hallway. They reluctantly turned to face Jason. Their eyes hovered at the space just above Jason.

Al grunted, "Yes."

"Can I talk to you before you go?" Jason asked.

Jason stood up, entering Al's line of sight. Al's gaze dropped to the ground. Their arms crossed over their chest. Dick cleared his throat, drawing Al's attention. Looking between Dick and Jason, Al sighed.

"Yeah, can we do it in the entryway? I can put on my shoes that way," Al conceded.

Jason agreed, "Sure, no problem."

As he shuffled a few inches when he looked toward the table to see his plate of nearly uneaten hash. Dick gestured for Jason to go. Focusing on the teen in front of him, Jason saw the tense contraction of Al's shoulders.

At the shoe closet, Al pulled out a pair of red sneakers. Amongst the array of shoes, Jason saw an absence of Alfred's trademark black loafers. They knelt on the ground to pull them on. Glancing at Jason, they adjusted their shoes.

Al prompted, "What did you want to say?"

 _That's actually a good question,_ Jason admitted, silently.

His mind buzzed with a general fog of disbelief that muddled his thoughts. As Jason pieced together his thoughts, Al pushed off their knees and onto their feet. Observing how Al fidgeted with the drawstrings of their cotton jacket, Jason felt less awkward.

"I'm sorry about last night. That was rude of me," Jason cut straight the chase.

Al blinked and blinked again slowly. They swayed slightly from side to side, shifting their weight between their legs. Al opened and closed their mouth.

"You apologized - you're different from the stories I heard," Al whispered.

"You shouldn't believe stories."

"Yeah, I guess," Al confessed, "It sort of surreal. That's probably why I snap -"

"You shouldn't apologize to me."

Al corrected, "I'm not. What you said was definitely shitty. It's sort of unbelievable that you're real. I've been told so much about Jason Todd and about Red Hood you've always been more of a myth. It's kinda refreshing to know you're human."

"Oh! And I accept your apology," Al added.

The conversation died. Pulling their bag off the ground, Al glanced between the door and Jason. They angled their body ever so slightly in its direction.

"I'm off unless you have anything you want to say," Al commented.

Out of courtesy, Jason asked, "Where are you going?"

"I have to turn in some homework to Tim and then go to a JL sponsored event."

"Homework?" Jason repeated. 

_Doesn't the kid have my memories?_

"Yeah," Al helpfully expanded, "I'm homeschooled."

 _How can I ask without being rude?_ Jason thought.

"Whatever you wanna to say, just ask," Al muttered.

"Don't you have my memories?"

Rocking on his heels, Al answered, "Yes. But there's a difference between knowing how to fire a gun and firing a gun."

Swallowing, Al continued, "It's not like I have all of them anyway. It's not like a movie, it's more like a bunch of homemade discs left in an old storage unit."

"I see. Bye kid."

Al remained leaning back and forth. They blurted out, "What's a VHS?"

"What?" Jason coughed.

Al explained, "When I was trying to come up with an analogy. My brain told me homemade VHS tapes, but I have no idea what those are. What are they?"

 _Is this how old people feel when asked what's a floppy disk?"_ Jason briefly wondered.

"It's an older crappier version of a DVD."

"What's a DVD?"

Jason inhaled sharply and hissed, "You're joking right?"

"No?" Al's voice cracked as it went up.

"Y'all still have Blu Ray?"

"Yes?"

"VHS is like the great-great grandfather of Blu Ray," Jason stated, slightly breathless.

Before Al could make Jason feel any older, the door knob turned. Al's eyes widened and they leap for the door. It defiantly swung open. A red-head poked her face into through the door.

"Guess who took the time to come pick you up!" she exclaimed, slipping into the entrance way.

She continued, "Earth to Al. Let's go."

Al stared at Jason, wide-eyed. They jumped into action, placing themselves between Jason and her. Linking arms with the lady, Al tugged her toward the door and away from Jason.

"Lian, that's breaking and entering," Al hissed.

"You door was open," she replied, refusing to move, "It's rude of me not to say bye." 

Turning, Lian smiled, "Hello and bye, Mr. G-."

Her mouth snapped shut. Her head jumped from Al to Jason to Al and back several times. With each rotation her, her expression grew more and more bewildered. Her pupils dilated to saucers. Her mouth parted. Her eyebrows receded into her fringe.

She barked, "Isn't that-"

Al clapped their hand over Lian's mouth, but the damage was done. Her loud yelp echoed throughout the Manor. From a distance, Jason picked up the pounding feet of people frantically running.

 _Bang._ The front door slammed open followed by a bulky man with drawn bow. The arrow pointed at Al’s face. A wild look of concern filled the man’s face. The red-tinted arrowheads gave away his identity.

"Pumpkin, what's wrong?!" the familiar and older Roy shouted.

Skidding down the hallway, Dick stalled to a stop in the entryway.

Dick yelled, "Al, what'd you do?"

Roy's head snapped from Lian to Al to Dick to Jason from Dick back to Jason. Roy straightened out. His face gained a peculiar expression, the facial representation of a double-take. His eyes narrowed. Tilting his head, Roy scanned Jason. He blinked and blinked as if processing Jason's existence. Roy's arrow clamored against the marble tiles.

Roy questioned, "Jaybird?"

"Don't call me that," Jason snapped, reflexively.

"Jay, you're not a fake," Roy exclaimed.

Dropping his pitch, Roy said, "Wait, you're the real Jason."

The surprise and joy drained from his face. His snapped into a straight line. Turning on his heels, Roy crossed his arms.

In the tone of a suburban mother of five, Roy said, "Dick."

"Not me, this time," Dick confessed.

"Dick," Roy repeated more sternly.

Roy sounded almost like a father. . . A light bulb went off inside Jason's head. Surveying the redhead next to Al and the one staring Dick down, Jason matched the curve of the nose and scattering of freckles.

"Lian's alive?" Jason gasped, mostly to himself.

Roy muttered, "That's what I should be saying about you. **_Dick."_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize that it took so long for me to update Life's Hour. Real life just got busy for me. I guess better late than never.
> 
> Second, how y'all feel about the chapter format for Life's Hour? How each chapter is divided into the past and present? Also how the past is written in reverse chronological order? I'm up for modifying the format if it's too off-putting or hard to follow.
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone wants to grab them, these are my handcrafted .epub, .mobi, and pdf files for download which better reflect the formatting and style I had in mind for Life’s Hour. [Link here.](https://mega.nz/#F!9RQ3gRIC!jndVB5iFUCHYOUhjI_rhQw)


	4. Leitwortstil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credit to the lovely [Hatake_Kai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatake_Kai/pseuds/Hatake_Kai)

# Chapter 4: Leitwortstil

10:05:7681

Leaning on the cool metal hall walls, Jason drummed on his thighs. He glanced at the door, checking that it was still closed. He'd missed the room if there hadn't been a sign: Medic Bay. The halls of the Watchtower were an endless labyrinth of nearly indistinguishable doors. Jason checked his watch: 3:15 PM. 

"Ugh," Jason grunted.

Checking his finger, he saw a small curved line of blood beading up. He sucked on the half-circle cut. He checked the aftermath. The centimeter long laceration barely bled. Jason checked the door once more.

 _Am I at the right place?_ Jason questioned himself.

Considering the sheer size of the Watchtower, there was always a chance there was more than one of these in the place. Could one room deal with the aftermath of the endless volume of bullshit that the JLA gets itself involved in on a daily basis?

Glancing at the door, he began to doubt himself. He'd been waiting for the last ten minutes. He checked his wrist: 3:16 PM. Jason kicked off the wall, turning to leave.

 _Whoosh._ The door slid open. Jason inhaled. Pausing, he watched Dick duck out, cupping his thigh. Dick straightened out at the sight of Jason despite that Dick barely passed his shoulders. His weight was eventually dispersed between his legs. Jason exhaled.

Dick beamed, "Did you come to check up on me, Little Wing?"

Reflexively, Jason denied, "No, the world doesn't revolve around you. I just needed something."

Jason jerked his head in the direction of the Medic Bay while holding up his index finger. Dick grasped Jason's right hand. Giving it a once over, Dick cocked an eyebrow.

Dick commented, "That's a paper cut to how banged up we usually get."

"We're in space. Any cut is big enough for all of my blood to evaporate from my body," Jason defended, yanking his hand away.

Covering his mouth, Dick laughed, "Well that's morbid."

Stepping around Dick, Jason tapped on the com. The door slid open. He entered. Ignoring whoever was in charge, Jason dug through the nearest drawer for a band-aid. Slapping it on, Jason exited.

"Hey," Dick greeted as Jason walked into the hall.

Jason retorted, "Who's waiting for who now, Grayson?"

"Me," Dick answered, "You coming here actually saved me from looking for you."

Jason raised his eyebrow.

Tapping on the window, Dick stated, "I bet I'm not the only one getting antsy being cooped up here all the time."

"And?" Jason asked, playing along.

Cupping his hand over his mouth, Dick asked, "Want to join me in the shooting range?" 

His breath tickled Jason ear. Dick stepped backward. His blue eyes sparkled playfully, reminding Jason of a clear sky.

Jason snickered, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yup, it's been weeks since other last one. Not that secret liaisons in the Watchtower isn't fun or anything."

Miming shock, Jason gasped, "The original boy wonder using guns, what would Bruce say?"

Dick shrugged and replied, "Whatever he wants. All I care about is that you like shooting things, so what do you want?"

"Gunfire and pissing off Bruce, my two favorite things in the world. How could I say no?"

"Great! Next date, we do something I like," Dick hummed, clapping his hands.

"No bungee jumping," Jason barked.

Shaking his head, Dick muttered, "No fun."

"No fun?" Jason exclaimed, "You already fight criminals, free-run across one of the biggest cities, and befriended deadly aliens slash superhumans. What more excitement do you want, you adrenaline junkie?"

"No bungee jumping," Dick compromised.

10:00:2552

His shooting range was a modified stimulation. It was your run of the mill shooting range. A counter divided the room with a set of targets on the side opposite to Jason. If Jason hadn't watch the space transform from an empty room, he could almost imagine he was on Earth. The laser gun on his hands took away from his suspension of disbelief.

Sliding the protective eye gear into place, Jason heckled, "Are you sure you know how to fire, Dickiebird?"

Dick lined up his shoot. Supporting the butt of the gun, Dick fired off three shots in quick succession. Placing the gun on the counter, the target race forward. Removing it from its fastening, Dick displayed the three clean holes centered on the target's head.

"You hold a gun like a cop," Jason mocked. 

"I didn't get onto the BPD just because of my dashing good looks," Dick hummed.

Dick continued, "Before you go, you need to be -"

"I know how to fire a gun, golden boy," Jason interrupted.

Tossing the paper off to the side, Dick raised his hand in surrender. Dick moved to the side for Jason to step up to the counter. Crossing his arms over his chest, a smirk lined Dick's lips. He gestured for Jason to go.

Pulling up his shoulders, Jason fired off three shots. The gun vibrated in his hands, the heat bled through the protective gloves. He lowered the gun and his pride dropped with it.

"Shut it," Jason warned as the target sped up to them.

"I guess you're the one that's rusty," Dick teased.

The holes sat a few centimeters outside of the target's outline. Normally that wouldn't be bad, but he'd been aiming for the center of target's head. Crumbling it up, Jason tossed it to the side.

"It took me three times to get the hang of this myself," Dick offered, comfortingly.

Without speaking, he picked up the gun. Adjusting his aim, he pulled the trigger thrice. Each stayed true to his intent. Turning around, Jason reflected, "Wanna say something now?"

"Two words: Sore loser."

"It took you three times with a fixed target? Bet you were shit in the field," Jason mocked.

"Puffing out your feathers, Little Wing?" Dick cooed.

An amused glint sparkled in his sky colored eyes. Jason's ears and eyes made out a challenge: 'that's not that impressive'. Inhaling, Jason mentally attempted to stifle that emotion.

"We both know who the better shot is, Dickiebird," Jason smirked.

"Do we?"

The room morphed. The partitions vanished. A small two by two square appeared in the center of the room. Turning his head, Jason saw Dick fiddling with the room controls. Along the walls were small cannons loaded with discs. Another two cannons popped out at the far end of the room.

"Put your money where your mouth is," Dick challenged, "let's have a little contest."

Crossing his arms, Jason scoffed, "What's in it for me?"

Dick hummed, "What do you want?"

"As long as it's legal," Dick added.

Tapping his chin, Jason ran through potential requests. There was no way he was going to let this opportunity wasted on something mundane. It had to be imaginative.

"What do you want in the magical instance you win?" Jason countered.

"I spoil you for a day and dinner at the Manor, no escaping. Whenever you're willing to let the family know about us," Dick stated.

Jason cringed and retorted, "I'm not dine and small talk type of guy."

"One meal, one hour," Dick said, "like you said we deal with the super-powered baddies. You can handle one announcement. And you were pretty charming when we started off."

"Ian Mason Batson is pretty charming," Jason corrected.

"Pfft," Jason suggested, "Maybe it's time he makes a return at next important party the Wayne Enterprises holds and the beloved Dick Grayson..."

Jason allowed the sentence to trail off suggestively. Dick shook his head, uncrossing his arm. He stepped closer to Jason with a crooked smile.

"So my condition is a nice date. Yours a date where we embarrass the heck out of Bruce," Dick rephrased.

Pulling his shoulders, Jason replied, "I have to get my kicks somewhere."

Dramatically pinching the bridge of his nose, Dick sighed, "I'm gonna start thinking you're only with me to get a rise outta Bruce."

Dropping his voice, Jason vocalized, " _Dick._ "

"I'm kidding," Dick smiled, "I know you're just a private guy."

Jason opened and closed his mouth. Something stilled his tongue. Scanning Dick's mirthful face, Jason searched for the source of his discomfort. Dick's usual open mouth grin seemed to show too many teeth. Jason's thoughts refused to order themselves.

Pumping his fist in the air, Dick asserted, "I'm gonna win, so no you better not be a sore loser, Jase."

Jason hesitated. Chalking his unease to overly sensitive instincts, Jason shook his head. He held up his gun and jut out his chin defiantly.

"We'll see about that, Dickie," Jason declared.

09:42:1879

"You cheated," Jason muttered.

Through Jason's earpiece, Dick hissed, "Jason, we can talk about that later."

"You're not getting outta of this pretty boy," Jason pushed the subject. 

"If it weren't for Rayner, I would've -," Jason continued.

"Boys focus," Bruce's impossibly low voice growled.

He sounded more like an exasperated father than Batman in that moment. Jason heard his jaw snap shut. Inhaling, Jason scanned the horizon. Five warehouses down was the one that Mavericks made into their home-base. Checking the approximate area, he saw nothing out of place.

"Understood," Jason answered, forcefully chipper.

"Turning off tracker in T-minus 1," Jason announced.

Dick replied, "Copy that. Reinforcements will be sent in if it's not turned on in ten."

Pinching the sides of the watch, he saw the lights blink off. Interlinking his fingers, Jason cupped the back of his head. He walked slowly, fatiguing relaxation. Turning his lips up at the corners, Jason completed the facade of Adler.

Meanwhile, he ran through his objectives. Despite what Bruce had implied, Jason knew how to get serious. Knocking on the door an abnormally clean warehouse, Jason wondered how more he remain with the Mavericks. Would it be weeks or months before he discovered the brains of the organization? Or would shit hit the fan first? Ideally, he’s miraculously dismantle the Mavericks in the next month or so. He'd already spent enough time as it is. No way in hell was he spending the next few years playing hero.

09:39:1855

"Are you listening to me, Adler?" Marie said.

Her neck angled in such a way that, despite their half a head's height difference, he felt her towering over him. Her eyes formed narrow slits as she scanned him. Jason winked. Marie pulled away with her nose scrunched up like she had smelled sewage. Her brown eyes darkened with judgment.

"You need me to pick something up," Jason replied.

Making a show of surveying the interior of the warehouse, Jason retorted, "Don't you have big buff people for that?"

"Well not here here but in the area somewhere," Jason corrected, keeping his playful Dick and dorky Tim combo act.

This area of the warehouse’s demographics inspired no fighting confidence. To Marie's back, a wall of machinery and fancy looking set up of computers beeped off. Next that, screeched several caged primates. A handful of lab coats poked and prodded the animals. An armed person passed in the background with biceps the size of one of the lab coat’s heads.

Stepping into Jason's personal space, Marie stated, "Well, the orders were for you."

She reached into the pocket of her white coat. Driving his nails into his palm, Jason suppressed the urge to pin her down. Out of the pocket appeared a substantial Glock.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Jason backed away from Marie. Widening his eyes and parting his mouth in fake shock, Jason challenged his inner geek. A particular costume stealing dork appear in his mind's eye and Jason rolled with it.

"I can't fight my way out of a paper bag," Jason explained.

 _To be fair, Tim probably could do that, but he would try to pull some Sherlock Holmes style crap before using his hands,_ a fraction of his mind chided him.

She countered, "Now you can shoot your way out."

Holding the gun tenderly, Jason fumbled with it to reinforce his act. He checked the space for any new souls. Shoving the gun in his pocket, Jason bit the inside of his cheek.

"Can at least bring one of the big guys with me?" Jason asked, jerking his head one of the guards who circled the warehouse.

"No."

"Here," she said.

A common white envelope stabbed his free hand. Marie narrowed her eyes, nonverbally ordering him to take it. Grasping it, he pushed it into his pocket.

Raising a brow, Jason replied, "Why are you giving me this order and not Barnabas?"

Crossing her arms, she glared at time.

"Whatever, Marie. I'll get you your mystery suitcase if it makes you happy."

She corrected, "Doctor."

Bulldozing over her words, Jason added, "Anyway to get back to the B.R.A.T. faster."

"It's not-" her voice leaped out her throat. It bared its fangs centimeters from Jason's face. Reflexively, Jason backed away.

Miming talking, Jason joked, "Yeah, we know blah blah. . ."

Turning on his heel, Jason headed out. The familiar weight of an un-holstered gun in his left pocket. Paper crumbled in his right. The sealed envelope strangely light. The everyday man's hoodie felt like wearing rice paper into a potential bullet barrage.

09:38:0084

Eying a set of men standing at the edge of the pier, Jason checked the surrounding buildings. Other than a broken down shed, the nearest building sat on the coast. Ruling out a sniper, Jason tapped the gun shoved into the edge of jeans.

 _Fifteen bullets, two known potential threats, no bullet proof vest,_ Jason calculated, _If the situation goes south, it'd take about two minutes to handle it._

Plastering a ridiculous grin on his face, Jason sauntered down the pier. The old wood creaked under his weight. Odd pieces of tarp and chains littered the ground. Maneuvering himself around it, Jason stopped by the stack of rusted barrels along the side of the pier. From the corner of his eye, the ocean rippled and stilled.

"Hello, boys, I think we're here for business," Jason greeted, sticking his hand awkwardly out.

The two heavily muscled men exchanged glances. The shorter, thinner man clasped Jason's hand, obviously the one in charge. The glove damp to the touch. A metal case hung from his left wrist. A long chain securing it to his wrist.

"Let's get this over with," he grunted, holding out his hand.

Holding the envelope just out of reach, Jason jerked his head commandingly.

"Don't play games with me kid," the head honcho growled.

Jason retorted, "Can't let you play me either."

Beckoning over his shoulder, one of the two bodyguards headed him a key. The case was freed from the man's wrist. Keeping it close to his side, he extended his hand out toward Jason. Jason released the envelope.

The pier quaked. Water slammed onto the wood. Jason threw himself on to the musty ground. A gun hovered in front of his face along with a very angry man.

"What are you, fed?!"

Jason shouted, "If I were why would I botch my job before I finished my hand off?"

Grayson asked in his ear, "What is going on, Weaver One?"

The gun receded. Jason yanked out his Glock. Checking the area, he saw an orange and white blur. A hulk of a person followed suit, punching one of the guards into the sea. At the sight of the irking familiar shades of green, red, and yellow, Jason wanted to punch a kid.

Biting down the urge to curse, Jason fired off a shot and then another. People think it's easy to miss and it is, but missing every shot is another thing. Making sure that his bullets went wide, Jason slid along the splintered wood to retrieve the suitcase.

Grayson said, "Do you need backup?"

A steel-tipped green boot came for his face. Rowing behind the wall of barrels, Jason crouched out of sight. The wiry teen pursued him, batarang in hand.

Aiming at his head, Jason hissed, "Tell your little friends to back off."

"Give me the case," Damian demanded, matching his father's low bass, "Todd."

Shaking his head, Jason replied, "Take a hint. If I wanted to hurt you . . ."

"Case. Now." 

Rolling his eyes, Jason pushed, "Are you really just going to settle for smaller fish?"

Damian cocked a brow, questioningly.

Jason mouthed, “Ask your dad, brat.”

Dropping the weapon, Damian vocalized, "Tch. Tch."

Firing off the Glock into Damian's armor, Jason didn’t give Damian a chance to change his mind. In the same movement, Jason pushed Damian into the water. Eying the water, Jason backed away slowly. Making a show of being extremely confused, Jason stumbled as he circled the pier. He saw three unconscious men and no envelope. Scoffing, Jason should've know the kid wouldn't leave empty handed. He tapped one of the men with his foot.

"Report in," Dick stopped piercing Jason's eardrums.

"We had some uninvited guests," Jason summarized, "I shot Robin's shoulder and I have the case still."

Dick's exasperated breath filtered through the earpiece.

"Continue with the delivery," Dick answered at last, "but it looks like you're in for one hell of a talk when you get back." 

⌛

??:?7.9523

"Dick," Roy repeated pointedly.

Crossing his arms, Dick accused, "Did Babs send you?"

"What?" Roy responded, angling his head.

Roy blinked. A silence growing with his confusion. His mouth popped into an 'o' of understanding. Quickly, his mouth formed a tight line and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Why - what?" Roy began, stumbling over his words, "just because we live - Wait, why would she send me after you? _Dick?_ "

Jason felt Dick's gaze point at him followed by Roy's. Jason's skin itched. Swallowing, Jason pulled his arms closer to his side and clenched his fists. He vaguely wondered if horses felt like this before they were auctioned off. Jason stared at one of the planted plants near the entry. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Trying not to squirm, Jason re-focused on the scene.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Roy sighed, "Give me a reason to not report you, Dick."

"He appeared round a day ago," Dick breathed out, pulling his shoulders up defensively.

" _Dick._ Were you planning on telling anyone?"

"I wanted a better idea things before broadcasting it."

"So, what do you know?"

Jason interrupted, "Don't talk about people like they're not here. Report to who?"

"Sorry," Roy offered.

Dropping his shoulders, Dick answered, "The Justice League. On the weirdness scale you're a ' _I should've said something two days before it happened_ ' level."

"But you're not going to hide it, right?" Roy checked.

Shrugging, Dick replied, "Someone is gonna find out some time. I'd rather it be later rather than sooner."

"One week," Roy stated, sternly.

"Damian's back in two days so we'll see," Dick offered.

Changing the topic, Dick questioned, "If Babs didn't send, why'd you come?"

Roy patted his pockets. Surveying Al, Lian, and Jason, he tilted his head toward the dining room. Dick took the hint and began to walk down the hall. Jason clenched his teeth.

 _I said not to ignore me so you leave. Smooth, Harper_ , Jason mentally snapped.

As soon as they were out of sight, Jason had about five feet six of energy in his personal bubble. Jason made out every freckle splattered across her tanned face. Al stood behind her, posed to restrain her if necessary.

"So you're Jason," Lian corrected herself, "Sorry, Mr. Todd that was rude of me."

Jason nodded as the thought he was too young to be a mister flashed through his head.

"Wow. My dad talks about you a lot," Lian blurted out, "how'd you revive?"

Jason grunted, "I don't know."

"Are all the conspiracies about you true? Did the JL really kill you? Did the lover of a s.o. actually kill you for stealing them?" Lian fired off question after question after question.

Behind Lian, Al shrugged apologetically. Lian's eyes dissected Jason. He was a precious gem and she an appraiser. Jason edged back to regain some of his personal space.

Al interjected, "Lian. He barely woke up in 2026 two days ago. Give him some space."

Blowing her fringe out of her face, Lian tilted her head. The air grew heavy. Lian exchanged looks with Al. Her eyelids pinched with consideration.

Jerking his thumb in the direction of the dining room, Jason said, "I'm gonna hunt down your dads."

Swallowing, Jason felt his canines graze his tongue at the end of 'dads'. Not giving them a chance to reply, Jason marched down the hallway. He picked up a puff of annoyance but kept walking. Jason chewed the inside of his chew as he neared the dining room. Jason stopped.

Tense voices drifted down the hall. The low hushed tones attempted to obscure their words. Jason slowed, reflexively keeping to the shadows. Swallowing, Jason scanned Roy's lip curled down and his shoulders drooped. Adjacent to him, Dick sat in a chair, nearly collapsing into it. The breakfast still cluttered the tabletop with the addition of a laptop. Jason’s curiosity peaked.

Roy began, reproachfully, "Dick..."

"I can't," Dick said, tripping over his tongue, "I can't fail him _again._ Not a third time, Roy."

Dick's volume dropped to a whisper. Roy scanned Dick's face. Roy's gaze dropped to the ground. Dick's shoulder rose and fell in labored breaths.

??:?7.8027

Dick turned his head, eying Lian. The two teens stood closed lipped. The sparkle in their eyes gave away their curiosity. A crease formed, faded, and reappeared on Al's sneakers as Al slightly rocked on their heels. Their eyes jumping from their watch to the trio of men and back to their watch quick cycles. Swiping across his mouth, Roy stepped toward his daughter.

Cutting the silence, Dick asked, "Why'd you come? If Babs hadn't sent you, I mean."

Jason's ears heard a nervous chuckle. In his mind's eye, Jason pictured a shallow curving of Dick's lips as he changed the topic. The sky blue eyes not matching the lower half his face. Jason saw Dick's back straighten out.

Blinking, Roy answered slowly, "What? Oh right. The delivery."

Digging through his pockets, Roy revealed a red USB drive and slid it across the table toward Dick. His fingers hesitated on the memory stick. Roy stepped closer.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Dick?" Roy questioned, softly.

"The system's doing most of the work," Dick rationalized.

Dick dragged the drive from under Roy's grasp. Twisting it between his fingers, Dick jerked his head questioningly in Roy's direction. Roy's green eyes lingered on Dick's face.

Roy sighed, "Dick, I'll be in town for the next week if you change your mind."

"The drive?" Dick pushed, reminding Jason for a moment of Bruce.

Following his lead, Roy teased, "Since you're still on desk duty, I thought you'll want something to do. Pull that Bat magic and make -"

Dick held up his hand, stopping Roy. Jason leaned forward. Dick turned his head. Jason froze and he watched the sky colored spheres survey the shadows.

"Al?" Dick questioned, "Jason?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, Jason commented, "Is it a good idea to leave two teenagers and a morally ambiguous man out of time in the foyer?"

Dick asked, "How long were you there for?"

Shrugging, Jason estimated, "Three minutes ago?"

Roy and Dick conversed with the series of side glances. Jason crossed his arms. Dick stood up, slipping the drive into his pocket in the same movement. For a moment, Jason wondered if he'd imagined Dick favoring his right leg.

Grabbing Jason's shoulder, Roy joked, "Do you guys have special skulking in the shadow lessons or something?"

Jason exchanged a knowing look with Dick who responded by raising his brow. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Jason shook his head, scoffing.

"Third lesson along with _'How to Piss off Commissioner Gordon'_ ," Jason muttered, sarcastically.

Roy exclaimed, "Seriously?"

"You don't know the half of it," Dick replied, winking conspiratorially at Jason.

"As much as I'd be my pleasure to talk about it," Jason said, dramatically, "We have two brats alone, doing who knows what."

??:?7.2558

"Pumpkin," Roy started.

Pouting, Lian protested, "Dad."

"Lian," Roy warned.

"Yes?"

"Before you head out, it's dangerous for Jason if anyone finds out that he's alive so keep this to yourself okay?”

Lian's line of sight lead to the corner of the ceiling.

"He could die, do you understand?" Roy stated.

Lian tucked her chin in.

Roy smiled and rubbed the top her head. Yanking her red mane out of the way, her face was scarlet with indignation. Her hands balled into fists at her side.

"Dad! Stop!"

"Whatever, sweetheart. Try not to beat everyone else too badly," Roy chuckled.

Lian smirked, "You told me not to lie."

Dick began, "Al..."

"I know, I know. If anyone asks who's here. Jason's my third cousin from somewhere in Europe," they replied.

"Have fun."

Following behind the teens, Roy excused himself, "Meeting with a client."

Closing the door, Jason wondered aloud, "Does everyone know about Al?"

"That they're a cyborg?" Dick checked.

Jason nodded.

"Our family, Clark, Diana, Hal, Wally, and about ten other JL members know. Everyone else thinks that I adopted a kid on a trip to Europe," Dick summed up.

 _Buzz. Buzz._ A screen lit up in the Dick's pants pocket. Mouthing an apology, Dick picked up his vibrating cell.

Grounding his feet into the marble flooring, Jason tapped his fingers on his thigh.

"Hello, Dick Grayson speaking," he greeted.

"The Jason Todd Center? Am I speaking today? Yes, I remember," Dick answered, quickly, "No, I didn't forget. I will see you soon."

Hanging up, Dick muttered, "Crap, I forgot."

"Did you just say Jason Todd Center?" Jason interrogated.

"Yeah," Dick replied, turning to away from Jason.

Jogging after Dick, Jason called out, "You can't just leave after saying something like that."

"I have to be there in an hour," Dick shot off, "Need to change. I can explain it in the car."

A crumpled note came toward Jason's face. Peeking through the door of Dick’s room, Jason flinched as a plain shirt hit the floor, joining its fallen brethren from days past. Dick stripped and dressed in two minutes. The buttons along the light blue dress shirt were off by one. Stumbling to re-fasten them, Dick scanned his dresser.

"Hey, you’ve seen my keys?” Dick question, digging through stacks of odd items.

Surveying the mounds of discarded clothes and stray papers, Jason coughed, “No.”

“Found it!” Dick exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

The small, black remote hung out from his hand. Spinning on his heels, Dick grabbed the nook of Jason’s elbow and sprinted down the hall.

??:?7.2273

Sinking into the black leather of car seat, Jason stared at the white clouds scattered across an otherwise clear sky. Blinking slowly, Jason watched the Manor shrink in the horizon as Dick pulled out of the driveway.

Waiting until the wrought gates closed, Jason intoned, "The Jason Todd Center?"

"It's part of the Wayne Foundation," Dick explained, "it's an community center slash after school slash youth outreach program for those with powers."

"Oh," Jason vocalized, a strange sensation welting up in his chest.

The indescribable emotion sat in Jason's throat along with a question: who decided to name it after Jason. Physically peering at the landscape, Jason turned away from his feelings. Gotham was a looming concrete jungle. The array of skyscrapers and warehouses merged into messy, tagged canvas.

The building skirted the edges of the Gotham. The wide, clean architecture out of place next an empty, abandoned lot. It looked like one of those SAT school buildings or tutoring centers for the well-off plopped to behind a highway. It even had one of those bronze memorial statues out front with a plaque underneath.

Drumming the steering wheel, Dick stated, "If I tell you to stay in the car, you're going to wander aren't you?"

Nodding to himself, Dick negotiated, "I'll be in there roughly two hours. Stay within sight of the car, okay?"

"Sure," Jason said.

Watching Dick's squeezable arse exit the car, Jason followed. Stretching his arms above his head, Jason waved when Dick glanced back at him. Shaking the listlessness out of his legs, Jason walked toward the most eye-catching thing the plaza.

The bronze figure loomed above Jason. Approximately ten feet tall, it laid on a two foot concrete base. The neatly parted hair and ambiguous facial features could've been any young boy. His hand jutted out as if offering a hand in greeting.

Skimming the plaque, Jason felt the air knocked out of his lungs:

In honor of Jason Peter Todd (19XX-20XX), my beloved son, whose life reminds me that no child should not suffer because adults were too uncertain and fearful to offer a hand.  
-Bruce Wayne June XX, 2016 

June 2016, Jason read again.

Counting backwards, he realized the statue must’ve been built several months after he died in the Watchtower. Brushing his fringe from his face, Jason analyzed the statue more carefully. From the jeans and jacket combo, he should’ve known it wasn’t Bruce. Diverting his gaze, Jason observed the front of the building. 

It was a standard two story rectangular block. Windows had white plastic blinds hiding the interior. To the far left, a stairway jutted from the second story leading to the ground. A woman drew his attention there. Her wavy blonde hair looped into a loose bun that bounced as she took two steps at a time. Other than her white coat, she wore a shocking amount of purple. 

“Shit,” Jason hissed, recognizing her.

Angling his face away from her, Jason proceeded to immerse himself in the cracks in the pavement. _Click. Click._ The clacking of her heels moved gradually in his direction. _Click. Click._ Swallowing, Jason wondered how pissed off Dick would be. _Click. Click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating in ages and I hope you enjoy the update.


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